The Ice Princess
by JustAnotherGirlInTheWorld
Summary: We all know her now, but who was Elsa BEFORE she became the infamous Snow Queen? She was the Ice Princess, of course! In this fic, follow Elsa through her troubled childhood, learn the truth about her parents, and see all the love, guilt, pain, and heartbreak that the cold can bring in the small kingdom of Arendelle. Rated because it includes torture and death (of OC characters).
1. The Gloves

"Elsa, please, you have to understand how serious this is."

He stood there, mere inches away from her pale, worried face, his steady breathing creating a beat for her heart to follow. His warm brown eyes melted her icy ones into a pool of swirling blue, and she wondered, not for the first time, how someone with so much warmth could create someone as cold as her.

"I know, dad. I really know. I'll do whatever you say, I promise."

She looked right back at him, gripping his hand in hers as if her life depended on it. As he had spoken, he had knelt down in front of her to accommodate for his own towering height, and now the two stood face to face. His expression was very serious, his mouth very stern. These unnatural characteristics of his terrified her.

"You said that before, remember? You said you wouldn't play with your ice powers anymore, and yet look what happened to Anna! How am I supposed to believe you after that?"

At the lecturing words, Elsa yanked her gaze away from his, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably filling with chilled tears. She sucked them back up, determined not to let him see her weakness. She would not cry. If she was going to show him that she could do it, she needed to be strong.

"I'm sorry," she murmured between her blue lips, the image of the event that occurred not even three days before bouncing around and around in her head, like a nightmare that she could never escape, "I didn't know how dangerous I was back then. But I know now. I can control it."

Her father nodded, but his stern expression did not falter.

"I know you can, Elsa. You're strong, and you always have been. I know you can do this… but we're going to need to work on it. Things may get a little tough for you from here on out, I may start to get very harsh, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you. In fact, it means the opposite. It means I love you enough to do anything to help you get better. You understand?"

The eight-year-old girl nodded, trying to hold back her whimper. She didn't know what was coming up next, but it couldn't be good. Not from that look on his face. Suddenly, she feared the worst.

"Yes, daddy. I understand. I trust you."

At this, the man finally smiled. The golden twinkle returned in his eye, and slowly he leaned forward and pressed his lips on the girl's temple. All the fear drained from her body in an instant, and she couldn't help the wave of unrequested warmth that rushed in to take its place. It wasn't real warmth, she knew. Because of her 'disability,' she was incapable of feeling any temperatures. This feeling now of safeness and soundness was as close as she ever came to it.

When her father pulled back, he was looking her deep in the eyes. She could sense his sorrow. He was ready to tell her something, but she could not guess what. It looked bad.

"You're mother and I… have decided to close the gates today. We're reducing our staff number, blocking all the windows, and you and Anna are to stay inside at all costs. We feel that this is going to be the best way to keep your secret hidden. "

At this, Elsa's eyes went wide. This was not something she expected. Nor was it something she wanted.

"But… Anna," she murmured, confused as to why her little sister had to be pulled into all this, "I know I'm not supposed to talk to the other children, but why her? If you won't let me play with her, and she can't leave, what is she going to do all day? She'll be all alone…"

"I know," he whispered sadly, eyes flitting towards the ground and back again, "And Anna doesn't deserve to be isolated, but it's our only choice. We all have to make sacrifices today, Elsa. I'm sorry it has to be that way, but I can't stop it."

Elsa looked down at her feet, her soft, blue slippers standing out against the red, carpeted ground. She couldn't help the overwhelming wash of shame and guilt that spread through her chest as thick and heavy as blood. Everybody in her family had to pay… all because of her. What had she done?

"What are you telling Anna," she whispered, still not daring to look up, "How are you going to explain this to her?"

"I told her it was to keep her safe," he said, his eyes burning into the top of her head, "That there are bad things in this world, and that this was the only way to protect her from them."

Elsa nodded. How ironic, she thought to herself. Anna thinks that they're keeping her safe by locking out the monsters of the outside, but in reality, all they're doing is locking her _in _with a monster. And she'll never even know it.

"Okay," was all Elsa managed to choke out, remembering the conversation they had had with the trolls earlier this week, "I'll make sure not to talk to her at all, just like you said. I won't build a snowman with her ever again… I swear it."

Very slowly, her father stuck out his hands and lifted her head with the tips of his fingers. Once again, the two were face to face.

"I'm proud of you today," he said strongly, firmly, "You're being very mature, for a girl of your age. And I'll be even more proud of you once you learn to control yourself. Trust me, you'll get the hang of it soon enough. The gates will be open in no time."

At this, Elsa couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face. "Really?" she asked, "You really think I can do it?"

He looked at her lovingly. "Of course, and these will help." Slowly, from the back of his pocket, he pulled out a pair of beautiful, icy-blue gloves. Elsa stood stalk still as he pulled them over her fingers. They fit perfectly, every curve of her palm accounted for.

"I had these specially made," he told her, his eyes glinting, "They're created from a special fabric. As freeze-proof as clothing can be. As long as you have these on, you'll be fine."

Elsa looked at them, awestruck at their beauty. They were the most wonderful present anybody had ever given him, in all of her life. She wanted to hug her father, she really did, but she restrained herself. She needed to look like a poised, mature grownup. And grownups didn't just hug their daddies whenever they felt like it.

"See," her dad continued, his eyes kind, "Conceal it…"

"Don't feel it," Elsa finished, already knowing her dad's signature phrase.

Together, they chorused, "Don't let it show."

Elsa looked up at her father, staring at his eyes. They were so warm. They made her feel so at home. She couldn't imagine ever going through this all without him.

"I love you so much," she whispered to him, ready to begin her new adventure, so long as her dad was at her side.

"Love you too, my little Ice Princess."

**This is just a short intro to what is going to be a fairly long, multi-chapter fic. It's going to retell parts of Elsa's sad, isolated childhood, mostly stuff that I make up, and let me just warn you now, it may get very depressing and disturbing at times. For example, though this chapter shows her the positive sides of her father, I'm also going to show some extremely negative sides of him.**

**It won't necessarily go in chronological order for the chapters, but I figured that this would be a good place to start. I hope you liked it, please read and review! **


	2. The Cage

**This chapter takes place about three years after the first chapter, when Elsa is eleven. Like I said, this fic may not be in chronological order, so later on I may post a chapter that takes place between these two. Enjoy, and don't forget to comment :). **

"I'm scared! It's getting stronger!"

Her voice sounded weak in her throat, shaky, even to her own ears. It was higher-pitched than usual, cracking from her own fear and echoing around and around in the confinement of the room. They didn't understand how it felt to be like this. They didn't understand how hard it was to hold back.

"Elsa," her father stated firmly, her mother standing behind him with a look of concern plaguing her face, "Getting upset will only make it worse."

As he spoke, he stepped closer to her frail little body, looking so small as she huddled in a corner. He wanted to comfort her, no doubt. Tell her that it would all be all right just as he always did when she was a child. But he didn't understand. Even now, standing here as the frost she had created clung to the walls around her, she could still feel her fingers tingling with unreleased power. Her curse of ice and snow that was just waiting for someone she loved to come near it, so that it could strike yet another victim. In panic, Elsa backed even further into the corner of the wall.

"No, don't touch me!" she screamed, shrinking away from her father's open arms, "Please… I don't want to hurt you."

She could feel the desperation in her voice, stinging her eyes with the tears that she once again sucked right back up. For the three years since the incident with Anna had occurred, Elsa was proud to say that she had not cried once. Every time she came close, felt the cool water pooling in the glassy part of her eye, she would merely blink it away, as if it had never existed to begin with. They would not see her cry. She didn't want them to know how much this was all hurting her.

Hearing her words, her father pulled back, him and her mother looking at Elsa with wide, pitying eyes. They didn't understand. These powers, she had realized soon enough, were stronger than both she and her father had originally suspected. They did not like being held back, they wanted to be free. She simply wasn't strong enough to keep them inside for much longer. Didn't they understand that? They were in danger! All of them!

"Elsa, dear," her mother whispered quietly, her hand now resting temporarily on her father's shoulder, "You're not going to hurt anybody. You'll be fine, just calm down."

Elsa shook her head vigorously. What could she say to get them to understand?

"No, no!" she whispered desperately, her heart beating like a mallet in her chest, "You don't get it. I don't think I can hold my powers back anymore! They're getting too strong! I can't stop them!"

"Yes you can," her father said strongly, firmly, "You _can_ stop them, Elsa. You just need to work on it. If you try hard enough, I'm sure—"

"NO!" Ella yelled in panic, the tears now blurring her vision, but still not slipping down her face, "Don't you see that I can't? I've tried as hard as I could! But nothing's working, and they're only getting more powerful! There's nothing left for me to do!"

"ELSA!" her father bellowed suddenly, his voice knocking the breath out of her in its sheer power, "Don't you let me ever hear you saying that again! You _can_ control it. It's this family's, this kingdom's, and your only hope that you do. Conceal, don't feel, remember?"

Eleven-year-old Elsa sniffled, not bothering to respond. She knew how important it was for her to get control of herself, she really did, but somehow she could just tell that it was a lost cause. She could try and hold it all back for as long as she wanted, but in the end, it would always end up exploding out of her, with no way to stop it. The question was not if it would happen, but when.

Her father sighed, the anger draining from his gaunt face. His eyes flitted to the ground momentarily, and then met hers, now filled with a hopeless sort of sadness.

"Your mother and I need to get back to dealing with the Kingdom, Elsa. In the meanwhile, please get a hold of yourself. Talk to me later when you're ready to start trying again. I'm taking these gloves with me, to get reinforced. I'll bring them back when I can."

Elsa stood in the corner, shivering from something other than cold, as her mother and father slowly shuffled out of the room. They were both tired of her by now, she knew they were. After three years of dealing with her crazy powers, she was sure anyone would be. Keeping her head aimed towards the ground, she heard the door slam behind them as if it were thunder in her ears. Then she gazed down at her bare hands, and cringed.

Just that afternoon, Elsa's ice powers had somehow managed to seep through the pores of the gloves. It had sprayed out like a sprinkler, changing the walls to an icy, frosty white, and in her surging fear she had ran to the door as fast as she could and demanded that the nearest servant go fetch her parents immediately. When he had found out, father had promised to get a seamstress to sew on an extra layer of the freeze-proof fabric, but Elsa's mind was now in shambles. Now, the one thing she thought just might have been able to hold back her powers, was destroyed. Maybe her dad would fix it for today, but what was stopping it from breaking again? And again and again and again? She was getting so much stronger now, she couldn't deny that, and no doubt she would continue to grow in the future. What if she grew so powerful that no pair of gloves in the world could _ever _control her? What would she do then?

A million worries rushing through her head at once, Elsa could do nothing more but go crawl inside her bed, cocooning herself under the covers until she could see nothing but the blue of her bedspread. Her white braid was pressed against the side of her face, still wet with particles of snow, and she struggled to breathe in the confinement of her blankets. Still, in her swirl of fear and confusion, Elsa found herself drifting to sleep almost instantly. Just like always, she had a nightmare. She had experienced a lot of different nightmares in the past three years, but this one more so than the others.

In her dream world, Elsa was wondering through her very own castle. It looked exactly the same as the one she lived in currently, except for the fact that it was made entirely out of ice. Everything, it seemed, was that shade of translucent, glistening blue, shining beautifully in the sunlight. The floor was cool and slick, and at first, Elsa always had fun sliding against it, as if she were ice-skating on a frozen lake. The castle was so beautiful, really. The crystals of ice so incredibly precious. It was impossible to not be amazed.

And then, just as happened every time, Elsa entered a gigantic room. It was the ballroom, she figured, but it didn't look much like it. Besides being made entirely out of ice, the floor was decorated in an array of huge snow piles, just like the one's she liked to make for Anna a long time ago. The walls were covered in beautiful snowflake prints, and in a one corner, stood a blank eyed snowman named Olaf. She barely noticed any of this, though. All that mattered was them.

Her father, her mother, and Anna were all in this room. And all of them were completely made of ice. Frozen.

Every time she saw them, no matter how many times it happened, Elsa would always rush up the figures. She'd clasp on to their icy, stiff bodies, snowflake tears cascading down her face, begging them to come back to life. She'd cry and she'd scream and she'd wail for them to thaw, saying over and over again how sorry she was, how this was all her fault, but always they stayed their same, frozen selves. She had no recollection of doing this horrible crime, but she knew it was all her fault. If it was ice, it had to be.

The ice figures had expressions of pure and complete horror stretched across their frozen faces. All except one, that was. Anna, always sweet little Anna, was lying on the ice, her eyes closed and her mouth agape as if she were sleeping. But she was not sleeping. She looked just like she did when Elsa had first frozen her head, on that horrible, infamous day. She was most definitely not sleeping.

When the dream ended—and as long as it seemed to last, it always did—Elsa woke up with a heavy layer of frost covering her bed sheets. The floor was dressed in a layer of powdery white, and her bed frame had turned clear and slick with ice. She groaned silently to herself. No matter whether or not she wore the gloves to sleep, they always managed to slip off in bed, and this was what she ended up with. She couldn't count the number of times her parent's had had to order their most trusted servants to take an ice scrapper and defrost her bed before she had to sleep in it the next day.

Speaking of her parents, as Elsa turned around in bed, she saw the reason why she had woken up in the first place. The two of them, looking very serious and solemn, were standing in front of her closed door, their hands clasped very tightly in their laps. Elsa's eyes widened. By the looks of the position of the sun in the sky, she had slept through dinner last night, and breakfast in the morning. Not very ladylike of her, to oversleep like that.

As quickly and curtly as she could, Elsa pulled herself out of bed. Trying to ignore the embarrassing snowiness of her mattress—it was like wetting the bed, for her—she went to straighten the covers, stumbling over her nightgown on the way. Quickly, fixing her braid to the standard neatness, she walked over to her parents and stood straight and tall in front of them, ready for her lecture. She deserved it, she really did.

But the lecture did not come.

"Elsa," her father said slowly, the dark circles under his eyes now more apparent than ever, "Your mother and I have things we need to show you today. Very important things."

Before Elsa could respond to this, the woman in front of her spoke out. "Oh, I don't know. Just look at the poor thing," she heard her mother whisper to him, her voice sounding concerned and very guilty, "Are you sure she's ready for this? She's just a child, after all… what kind of parents are we to show a little girl something like this?"

"It's for her own good," her father whispered back, acting as if the girl weren't even standing right in front of them, "She needs to learn the consequences of refusing to control her powers. This will motivate her. In the end, we'll be glad we did it."

Her mother nodded gloomily, and then once again, the two of them turned to face her. She nearly shrank beneath their heavy, meaningful stares. She simply didn't know how to interpret them. What were they planning to show her?

In obedient silence, Elsa followed her parents as they led her downstairs. They reached the base level of the castle, and then walked right over to a very mysterious door that was always kept locked, no matter the circumstance. She watched in amazement as they opened it up and walked right in, as if this were completely normal. She followed suit, a mix of nervousness and excitement pumping through her icy veins.

The door led to a staircase, and a long one, too. She felt as if she were walking down it for at least a century when the stairs finally came to an end, and she was met with the sight of a hallway, lined with barred, iron doors.

"These are the dungeons, Elsa," her mother remarked as the girl gazed around the room, awestruck at just how dank and dark this place could be. She'd heard of dungeons before. They were places where the king and queen—her parents, of course—put criminals whenever they did something bad. She wondered, momentarily, what exactly they did with those criminals after they caught them, since all the cages around here seemed to be empty. However, when her parents stopped at a certain door to the right, that questions dissolved in mouth.

This door was different than the others. It did not have those thick, metal bars. Instead it was just a solid plate of iron, numerous padlocks decorating its edges. It looked very large and serious, as though any criminal that had to be put in there was a very dangerous one. The only thing that confused her about it was the pretty, white snowflake that was painted on its surface. Surely, any criminal that dangerous did not need a snowflake on his door.

"What's in there?" Elsa asked innocently, unable to peer through the solid metal.

Her mother released a sound that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, and her father answered simply, his voice very tired, "You'll see."

She watched with fascination as he took his key and unlocked the door, swinging it open as the hinges creaked from age. The room it showed was rather dreary, but it intoxicated Elsa all the same.

The walls, it seemed, were made of slabs of stone, nothing extraordinary in the slightest. At the far side of the wall, the only light source in the entire room, was a tall window made of glass panes, which gave a very low, yet beautiful, view of the fiord, spilling out an icy blue light from the reflection off the waters. This was strange, she thought, considering the fact that she could have sworn that all those steps had led them underground. But to be fair, the castle _was_ initially on a hill, so she guessed it pretty much evened itself out.

On the right side of the room was a bedpost, but it looked fairly new, as it didn't even have a mattress yet, just the wooden frame. Attached to the post, though barely visible in the darkness, were two, long chains. They ended in little bowl-shaped cups, and it took her a second to realize that they were meant to cover and lock up somebody's hands.

Now that was very strange. She didn't understand why anybody in a prison would need their hands covered. They were already trapped, and in a place like this, handcuffs would be plenty sufficient to keep them from hurting anyone or trying to escape, while at least allowing them to _eat_ on their own.

"What are those for?" Elsa asked, pointing towards the chains and metal cups, "Why do you need them?"

"Why don't you go take a look?" her father suggested in an anxious voice unlike his own, and so Elsa did just that. She crept forward, the heels of her shoes clicking against the stone floor, and picked up one of the metal cups. It was heavy in her hands, obviously very strong and durable, and on one side it had a very impressive looking lock. The keyhole, though, was shaped very strangely. It fascinated her.

"Dad," she asked curiously, "Can you pass me the key?"

He looked unsure for a moment, but then he resented, doing just that. She grabbed it in her fingers without even looking at it and stuck it in the keyhole. In a second, the cups had opened up, revealing hollow spaces where a person's hands and wrists were supposed to fill. It was interesting and all, but the thing that really captured her attention was when her eyes darted absentmindly to the key she still clutched in her hand. She realized, suddenly, that it was shaped just like a snowflake. Her mind began to piece it together with everything else she'd seen today, running it all through her head over and over again. Suddenly, everything clicked. She gasped out loud.

The snowflake on the door. The snowflake on the key. Not to mention, the generous view of the fiord. Why would a real criminal need, or deserve, any of those things? The truth was simple. They didn't. This prison wasn't for a criminal.

"It's for me," she whispered out loud, barely aware of the words escaping between her lips. Then she spoke louder, fiercer, "This cage is for _me._" She looked down at the cup-shaped metal in her arms. It was obvious, now. The cups were meant to cover her hands, so that she couldn't use her snow powers. Not ever. In complete horror, she let it clatter to the ground.

She turned on her heel to face her parents. They both stood there, looking down in guilt.

"Why?" she murmured, once again finding that she had to blink back her tears, "Why did you make this?"

"Elsa, princess," her mother simpered, stepping closer as Elsa stepped back, "We have no intent on ever using this, but it's just in case. Just in case your powers really do get the best of you, you understand? We would need to keep Anna and the rest of Arendelle out of danger, and this would be the only way."

Elsa couldn't speak. Her knees felt wobbly beneath her. Did her parents really created her _own_ dungeon? Would they really be willing to use it on her, if worst came to worst? Were they really this afraid of her?

"We needed to show you this," her father suddenly spoke up, his voice kind and calculating, "So that you'd understand just what might happen if you stop trying to hold back your powers. It may be hard, but if you don't keep up the fight, this is where you'll end up. Okay?"

Elsa was still speechless. All she could do was nod. Her head felt heavy on her neck. Very, very heavy.

"Come on, dear," her mother simpered quietly, once she caught the look on her face. She stepped forward and took Elsa by the shoulder—never by the hand, that would be too dangerous—and pulled her over to the door. Elsa watched, silently, as they swung the prison door shut. She hoped desperately that this would be the last time she ever saw it.

"Do you think we should show her the other room?" she heard her mother whisper to their father as they began walking up the stairs again.

"No," he replied sternly, "Not tonight. She's still quite shaken, and that will be ten times worse for her. Let's just postpone it all until tomorrow. She needs to soak it all in for tonight."

Her mother nodded, and then the three of them just trotted upstairs in silence, Elsa wondering what on Earth could be 'ten times worse' than what she'd just seen today. All she knew was that it _couldn't_ be good.

**I hope you liked it! Just in case you didn't notice, the dungeon I described was the same one that Elsa was trapped in during the movie. I thought it would be a cool twist if that prison happened to be one that her parents had designed specifically for her in that type of situation. If you think that's bad, though, you should wait until the next chapter O_O. I'm actually so excited to write it XD. **


	3. The Torture

**Hey everybody! Before I begin, I just want to say thank you to ALL of you for reading. I received some really great reviews for my last chapter, and they really just made my day. So if you've reviewed, favorited, or even followed my fic, then thanks a lot! You really inspired me to write :D.**

**Okay, so this chapter takes place a day after the last, and it gets very depressing and gruesome at some parts. Its also VERY long. More than double the length of my last chapter... as you can tell, I tend to ramble. Well, anyway, I just hope you like it. Enjoy! **

* * *

Elsa could barely sleep that night. She doubted she'd ever be able to sleep again.

Her breathing was loud and consistent in her ear. Her heartbeat rough and unsteady. Every little creak that broke out into the night, whether real or just in her head, shocked her to alertness, and she found that she could not drift even close to the sweet, comforting border of unconsciousness.

Not that sleep seemed all that pleasant, at the moment. With the mix of hopeless desperation for the truth she had discovered, and nervous anticipation for the truth that was yet to come, she knew all she'd end up having was another nightmare. But at a time like this, as she lay awake in the dead of night consuming herself with fear, even a nightmare seemed like a blessing. Anything, it seemed, was better than reality.

Elsa wasn't sure what time it was when she finally gave up on trying to get a good night's rest, but by the look of the moon in the sky, and the silence that pulsated from the darkness around it, she could tell that it was very, very late. Silently, creeping on stealthy toes, she pulled herself from her bed and walked over to the window at the edge of her room, her nightgown fluttering at her ankles as light and soundless as a whisper.

The window in her room had a built-in stool beneath it, dressed in a soft, blue pillow for comfort. Very carefully, Elsa sat herself upon it, gazing outwards at the paned glass. She remembered, years ago, how one of her first major outburst of power—or at least the first that she hadn't even meant to release—had been at a window just like this one. Back before she moved herself into a smaller bedroom—Anna's absence making the room built for two seem incredibly huge and lonely—Elsa had always found herself gazing out of the huge window at the very end of the room, nearly five times as big as the one she had now. After having only been trapped inside for a day of two, not yet used to the confinement, Elsa had missed nature's wonders desperately, and this was the only way she got to see its sweet face again.

The sky was clouded to the point of overflow on that certain afternoon, and though she'd seen it almost a thousand times before, her nine-year-old self couldn't help but gaze at the light layer of snow just beginning to graze the ground. It was so beautiful, she remembered thinking to herself, just too perfect. And it was her. She was not the sun princess, not the sand princess, not even the rain princess. She was the ice princess, and this snow was for her. She was sure of it.

She hadn't been scared, hadn't even been the tiniest bit nervous, on that certain day. But maybe it had been the excitement, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, that had put her over the edge. As she had pressed her hands against the windowsill, gazing out as her breath fogged the glass, it had only taken only a split second for the particles of familiar ice to shoot out beneath her fingertips. In an instant, the entire sill had turned to an icy, stinging blue. She had been shocked, really. Shocked and scared and confused. It was the first time she had used her ice powers on accident, and the moment when she realized that they weren't entirely in her control. But she hadn't known, yet. Hadn't known just how powerful she was meant to be. The next day, her father had given her the gloves, and whatever worry still floating in her mind had been set at ease. If only she knew…

Elsa blinked twice, realizing the unpleasant place her thoughts were wondering, and pulled herself back to reality. As she sat upon the ledge, looking outwards at the gooey blackness, not a star in sight, she began to feel just like the moon. So bright and strong and powerful… yet all alone. And what was the point of being powerful if she didn't have anyone to share it with? She didn't know, she really didn't.

She felt as if she had stared into nothingness for hours, and eventually, her sleep timer managed to catch up with her. Three hours before the designated arrival of her parents, Elsa passed out on the windowsill where she still sat, her face pressed against the glass and smudging it with natural oil. Lucky for her, at least, her general exhaustion had presented her with the gift of a dreamless sleep. Not a nightmare in sight. This would prove as blessing later on. At least she got a few hours peace before she was thrust into the worst experience of her entire life.

She woke, as expected, to the sound of her parent's sharp, loud knock on her door. As they entered without being invited inside, she arose from her spot on the windowsill, her pale face looking pinker than usual at the thought of being caught in such an embarrassing position. Quickly, Elsa ran to the bathroom to change into her day dress and fix her messy braid. She looked over herself in the full-length mirror, forcing a fake smile to stretch across her face, before hurrying over to her waiting mother and father. They both looked very grim, today. Elsa struggled to hold back the gulp in her throat.

Anna must have still been sleeping this morning, for her parents didn't even bother to avoid the main hallways. They trudged gloomily down to the same door that they had led their first-born daughter into yesterday, and her heart pounded in her chest as she followed them, glancing around at the walls nervously.

They marched her straight passed all the dungeons that stretched across the first hallway, even her own personal prison, and that allowed Elsa to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to go there anymore. She followed them all the way until the hallway ended, a new one branching off to the right, far emptier than the first. It didn't even have torches spread out across it to give off light, and Elsa found herself gripping onto her dad's hand so that she didn't veer off, or run into a wall, or something stupid like that. She may have been far more graceful than Anna, but that didn't mean she didn't have her share of klutz hidden in her DNA.

The hall ended with a single, latched door, and her mother and father stopped dead in their tracks. Her father lit his own personal torch so that they could all see each other. He looked at Elsa deep in her eyes, and in shame of the coldness of her own, she looked away. She could feel his gaze, his judgment, spreading throughout her, and she cringed away in shyness. Unlike Anna, she wasn't much of an attention-lover.

"Elsa, honey," she heard her mother whisper to her, the first word she had spoken the entire way here, "We need you to be strong today, okay? What you're about to see may scare you, but you need to stay strong."

Her father nodded in agreement. "Just remember," he added, "You still have a chance to live a perfectly normal, happy life. There's nothing to worry about. This is only a warning, a reminder, for you to stay on the right track. Your mother and I both love you desperately. Never doubt that."

Elsa nodded, her eyes wide and her entire body tense. How bad _was_ this mystery room? She tried to ease her mind by taking a serious of calming breaths, but no matter what, no relaxation came. She figured she'd just have to tough it out until it was all over. Whenever 'it' happened to be, she could do this.

She watched, almost in emotional detachment, as her father slid a bronze key into the lock on the door. Admiring the way his wrist turned so gracefully, she barely even heard the deadly click as it rang out into the air. She stood stalk still as he pushed away the heavy block of steel—something even stronger than iron, she thought—and followed him, her head down, as he strutted inside. She couldn't process what she saw for a good long time. It was all so much to take in.

The first thing her mind picked up was the smell. It was rank and rancid, stinging her nostrils and causing them to crinkle in disgust. It was a concoction of such a varied mix of scents that her nose could barely even distinguish them all. Sweat, she knew, was rather strong in the aroma. There was also a heavy tint of rotting wood, covered up almost fully by the indistinguishable smell of human waste. And could it be that that was a hint of blood she detected in the air?

Her eyes found the floor, first, and her mind was unsettled at the way the cement below her seemed to be tinted pink, most likely by the continuous contact of a substance that must have been very red to leave such a mark. The skin at her fingertips tingled.

As she slowly raised her head, she discovered where the smell of rotting wood was coming from. Despite the entire room being made up of almost entirely concrete, there was an array of strange, wooden structures splayed out across the empty space, looking almost like a weird little jungle gym. Elsa gawked at all the contraptions. They were all very different sizes, some with wheels, or holes, or levers, or even chains, and all gave her a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. She had no idea what these things were, she'd never seen anything like them before.

Slowly, Elsa turned to her parents. They stood behind her, hands still clasped coldly in their laps, and she saw real guilt in their eyes. She didn't know why. What was there to feel guilty about for a bunch of old toys?

"What is this room?" she asked, gazing around with a strange mix of curiosity and uncertainty, "What are these wood things for?"

Usually her father might have scolded her for using a word as casual and un-queen like as 'things,' but today he didn't seem to be in the mood. He only shook his head sadly, not even bothering to answer her.

"Come on, Elsa dear," her mother suddenly spoke up, and Elsa was shocked to see her eyes shining with unreleased tears, "We're almost there, just follow us."

The girl nodded and let her parents walk ahead of her, before following right at their heels. In the emptiness of the giant room, the click of her mother's shoes echoed around and around, and Elsa used that flat, continuous sound to calm her aching nerve. It wasn't such a big deal. Whatever it was, she'd just have to get over it. She knew she could.

As she followed in her parents wake, the boundaries of this gigantic room expanding whenever they turned a corner, the endless pile of contraptions did not cease to surprise and amaze her. She saw ropes hanging from the ceiling in simple little loops. Stone pits dug into the ground that seemed almost endless in depth. Tiny, bared cages that were so small even a child would have to crouch in them. And blades. Lots and lots of blades.

Mother and father had always told Anna and her that knives were dangerous, and so Elsa had never had much of an experience with them, but by the looks of it, her parents were gigantic hypocrites. Whichever servant worked in this place must have loved those sharp, little weapons, because she had never seen so many in all her life. Everywhere she looked she saw a glint of silver in the corner of her vision, all different shapes and styles and sizes. She didn't even know blades came in this many different ways. It was very strange to think that her parents were so fond of them.

The site of all the glinting silver, she found, had suddenly filled her with an immaculate, illogical sense of dread, and she found herself gazing down at her shoes rather than have to look at any more of the strange toys surrounding her. Being the princess she was, she knew that her parents had tried hard to shelter her from a lot of the scarier things in life, and somehow she felt that this was one of those mysterious things. But not anymore. Today her vision of the world around her would get just a little bit clearer.

She knew her parents had arrived at their intended destination almost immediately. She didn't know why, but it was almost as if something in the air changed when they got close to it. As if the fear itself was thick and palpable around them. When she got near enough to sense the presence of another human being standing in the room with them, she was absolutely positive she was where she was meant to be. Slowly, ignoring the way her heart thumped mechanically in her chest, Elsa raised her head.

What she saw first was not much of a surprise. Just a servant. Not as pleasant or as formal looking as the others that worked in the house—that was for sure—but a servant all the same. He was an old man with barely any hair at all scraping his round head, and he was dressed in the classic guard's ware. Except, of course, that his clothing was covered in an array of mysterious-looking stains. At the moment, Elsa didn't feel like trying to guess what they were from.

Besides the man, what really caught her eye was the pair of feet dangling besides him. Cold, bare feet. They were swinging there helplessly, kicking out every once in a while but otherwise staying relatively still. Elsa did not hesitate to look up and stare at the person they belonged to.

It was a woman. She had long, black, stringy hair, and her arms were raised high above her head, attached to rusting metal chains that hooked to the ceiling. By the way her shoulder blades jutted out, it was clearly not a very comfortable position, but she did barely anything to struggle against them. She must have been hanging there for quite a while, to be being so submissive, and the gaunt, sickly look of her face and body was a pretty big clue that nobody had bothered to feed her during all that time. She had a grimace on her face, and the look of her pained expression was immediately copied onto Elsa's own. She couldn't help it. Whatever was happening to this poor lady was wrong. She knew it was.

"Mama, Papa," she whispered, her voice higher-pitched than usual, "What's going on here?" She hardly ever called her parents 'mama and papa' unless she was really upset, really needed their help. They seemed to understand this, and she could feel them shrink behind her.

"This woman," she heard her father reply in false strength, "Is paying for her crimes, Elsa. Do you have any guesses as to what her crimes could be?"

Crimes? Elsa couldn't imagine how a woman so sad and hopeless looking could have done anything seriously wrong in the past, and even if she had, why would Elsa care? At the moment, all she cared about were the thin, dirty rags draped over her emancipated body. The way her feet were bare and bleeding, nearly black with muck. She wasn't a pretty woman, really. Even without the gauntness of her face, and the smears of grime rubbed upon it, her skin was rather wrinkled and dry, and her nose far too large and bumpy to be considered desirable. But that made the entire sight even sadder. Without a warning, Elsa suddenly felt a wash of love and pity spread upon her as she gazed upwards at the weakened woman. Is _this_ what they did to all the criminals in Arendelle? Is this what they do to all the criminals _everywhere_?

"No, no," Elsa huffed out in heavy breathes, almost forgetting that her father had asked her a question, "I don't care what her crimes are. Why is she hanging up there? What are you doing to her?"

"She's getting what she deserves, Elsa."

"No. Please, put her down."

She could practically feel the way her father released his sigh of frustration, his heavy shoulders heaving. But she didn't care. All that mattered was that woman. That dainty, little woman. What were they doing to her?

"Honey," she heard her mother whisper, her voice raspy with sadness, "This prisoner was jailed for witchcraft."

Elsa couldn't process that for a second. Witchcraft? She'd certainly heard that term before, passed between the lips of schoolchildren as they told each other the fascinating, yet disturbing, tales of magic, but never before had it been said to her with such disgust. As if it were some horrible, monstrous thing.

"Witchcraft?" Elsa asked, not even turning around to face who she was talking too, "You mean… she has powers like me?"

"Exactly," her father responded, "Not ice powers, but powers all the same. She'd been hiding them fairly well for a while now, by the looks of it, but the villagers found out a few days ago, and with such a cry of outrage we had no choice but to send her here. We decreed the punishment that they suggested. We had no other option, Elsa, they would have started a riot had we declined."

"W-what exactly did she do?" Her voice was so shaky it was embarrassing.

"They say she was casting spells on them. Cursing their crops so that they wouldn't grow and casting bad luck charms on all the merchants so that their goods wouldn't sell. A child went missing a few days ago, and they claimed she was the one who took him. Used his bones to concoct one of her potions. They were all so riled up… they would've thrown her in the river themselves if I hadn't sentenced her."

Suddenly, from a weak, raspy voice above them, came a croak of protest.

"Lies," whispered the woman sheepishly, tears dripping down her face, "All lies. Innocent…" She coughed weakly, and then went quiet. Elsa hadn't realized she had even been conscious. Her eyes were so dark and empty, it was heartbreaking.

"SILENCE!" screamed the guard below her, so loud his voice shook the entire room, "DO NOT CONTRADICT THE KING, YOU WICKED BEAST!" Without even hesitating, he grabbed her legs and yanked hard. The sound of her shoulder blades cracking was just barely audible beneath the woman's cry of pain. Elsa shuddered on the spot, and her eyes filled with cold water.

"See!" she exclaimed, "She said she's innocent! It's all just a misunderstanding! Just let her go!"

"Elsa, princess," her father whispered, coming up closer to lay a hand on her shoulder, "I can't do that. Whether she did it or not, the child was kidnapped, and someone needs to pay. Unfortunately for her, the village chose her to be that person. But that's just the way life is sometimes. Its unfair."

Elsa couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around all this. It just didn't make any logical sense. She had thought, was sure, that the only people who were arrested were _actual _criminals. People who had done real crimes and were too dangerous to be left running loose. But this? It was insane! Why punish someone if you didn't even know they were guilty or not? Elsa couldn't let this happen… she just couldn't!

"Why did you even bring me here?" she moaned, not taking her eyes off of the victim, "Why are you even showing me this? Please stop it. Please, I'm begging you."

"Elsa, we can't do that, princess," her mother whispered slowly, her voice as soft as a flower, "Your father and I agreed that this would be the only way to make clear to you the true dangers of failing to hold back your powers. I know this is hard for you… but, it's the only way."

Her father, satisfied with the explanation, then turned to the servant standing silently by the prisoner, and released the three short woods that would repeat in Elsa's nightmares every night for the next three years of her life.

"Begin the execution."

Execution. In Elsa's opinion, it was the most horrible word that had ever existed.

The servant nearly seemed to smile as he leaned backwards and picked up a long, thin strip of cloth behind him. Elsa had never seen one in person before, but she knew enough to understand that it was a whip. And that getting hit with it hurt… a lot.

The first time the strip of leather was raised into the air, Elsa did nothing. She just stood completely still and watched, in almost robotic like attention, as the man swung it towards the woman's back. There was a loud, deafening crack, and her screams broke out into the air, high-pitched and painful. Elsa gasped, stepping backwards. Somehow, even with all those other noises surrounding her, she could still hear her heartbeat loud and consistent in her ear.

"Stop, please stop this," she murmured, her voice static and emotionless, "Let her down. Now."

"No Elsa," one of her parent's responded. She couldn't tell which, her mind was in too much of a flurry. At the moment, she didn't really care. The whip swung down again and lashed against the woman. She struggled harshly against the chains, tilting her head up and screaming towards the heavens. This time, Elsa's own voice mingled with her own.

"Stop it!" she yelled, her voice frantic, "Please stop! I can't take this, just stop!"

"Elsa, please, you can handle it. We know you can."

As the third strike found its mark, Elsa glanced to the side and spotted the way the woman's filthy rags were beginning to slowly soak through with a thick, red liquid. They ran across the fabric in cracked, jagged lines. Like crevices in the earth. Cracks in ice. Elsa couldn't breathe.

"No, no, no I can't handle this, I can't do it," her voice was halfway between a sob and a scream, so cracked that it was barely even distinguishable as her own, "I'll do anything… please. Just let her go."

"We're sorry, princess, but she's only getting what she deserves."

A fourth and a fifth strike attacked the woman's fragile skin. Then a sixth and a seventh and an eighth. Each was attached to a bloodcurdling scream, non-any less frightening than the last. Elsa could practically feel the way the woman's skin must have stung as the force of the blow stretched across her back. The soft, warm feel of blood as it flowed down the curves of her body. The vibrations of the whip as its power traveled right through to her very bones. She wanted it to end, she wanted it so badly she could barely breathe. But she knew it wouldn't. They would just keep lashing her, over and over and over again, until her frail little body gave way into itself, and the life seeped out of her magical soul. She was going to die no matter what. At this revelation, Elsa's fingers burned. She hadn't even noticed the strong sensation of tingling that had been traveling down her spine for the past few minutes. She looked at her feet and saw the way the stone beneath her was already beginning to freeze over, the ice already having broken through the soles of her shoes. This couldn't be good.

"Fine," Elsa finally whimpered, tears blurring her vision to the extent that she could see nothing but a blob of depressing shapes, "FINE! But if you're going to do this, just let me out of here! I can't watch this! I really, really can't! Just let me out!"

"Elsa, please, you can do this. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show."

It was her father speaking that time, she could just tell. He was trying to reassure her. She didn't care. Nothing he said could reassure her ever again. Elsa backed up against the wall, her hand brushing momentarily against the stone behind her. She was wearing her newly-improved gloves, but it almost didn't seem to matter. She had never experienced so much emotional trauma in all her life, not even with Anna. These gloves stood no chance.

The lashes kept raining down on the woman's back, her screams continuing to echo throughout the silent room. It would never end. Never, ever, ever end. Elsa felt the way her frost began to climb up the wall, slide across the floor. It was spreading like wildfire in a forest of oak, like a disease in a tenant crammed with people. She couldn't hold it in. _She couldn't hold it in!_

"Elsa," her father scolded, backing away to avoid the spreading sheets of ice, "Stop this at once! Control yourself!"

"I can't!" she shrieked, her voice as shrill as a bird's, "Just stop this! Just end this! Please, I'm begging you, I can't do this anymore!" She was hyperventilating now. Every breath she released was flecked with particles of snow. By the way her parents shivered in the corner, she could tell the temperature in the room must have lowered considerably. There was so much ice on the wall and floor around her it looked as if an igloo had exploded in the corner.

"ELSA!" her father yelled right back, his voice clearly trying to sound angry, but ending up with more than a tint of desperation, "You need to learn to deal with this right now! Do you want to end up like her!?"

The words. The lash. The scream. The trembling. The burning. The pain. The ice.

Did she want to end up like her? No, no she didn't.

But it looked like she didn't have a choice.

And that was when it had happened. So quick and powerful and unannounced, it literally knocked Elsa off her feet. She'd never known she held that much power. It terrified her even more.

As she had stood there, cowering in the corner, she had exploded. Literally. That was the only word that seemed to fit. An immense stream of her icy powers had erupted from her fingers, shooting across the room as fast as a bullet and as large as an ocean wave. Everything it passed turned to an icy, shining blue. Her parents just narrowly missed standing in its path. The servant jumped out of the way just in time. The woman, however, could do nothing but continue to sob in her rusting chains. She didn't even see it coming. Elsa figured it was better that way.

When the girl looked up, her back aching as it had been flung against the wall, she caught sight of the work she had created. The woman, now held to the ceiling by chains of a slick, translucent material, was now completely frozen. Her body was carved fully of ice, an expression of complete pain stretched across her translucent features. But it didn't matter anymore, because that woman's pain was gone now. Her expression was only evidence of the crimes that had been done to her. Evidence of how she had suffered.

She may have looked gruesome before, but under the dim lighting of the cellar, the woman's icy skin sparkling in a thousand different ways, she looked absolutely ravishing. A mere picture of innocence and beauty. Ice, Elsa realized, made everything beautiful. Often in the most horrible of ways.

As she sat there, paralyzed at what she had done, her parents had stared at her, looks of shock and fear plagued upon their faces. They were afraid of her, she realized. Only now did they understand her true power. Only now could they really see just how impossible it was for her to hold back. They had to. She had shown them, proved to them, that no matter how hard she pushed it inside, her power always pushed a thousand times harder. There was no way she could win.

As Elsa tore her eyes away from her parents, she gazed once again at the sadness of her creation. She looked at all its beautiful, elegant curves, a well of pain beginning to build up inside her. The poor woman did not deserve to be hung up by those perilous chains any longer. Without a moments thought, Elsa cracked the ice above her. What once bound her had fallen away. Her frozen body seemed almost to be suspended in midair for a second, before it came crashing to the ground. It split into a thousand separate pieces. Shards of ice splattered everywhere.

_Good_, Elsa thought. _Now she's finally at rest. Finally free. I just wish she could've taken me with her._

Without thinking, Elsa pushed herself up from the ground. It was slippery with ice, but somehow she did not struggle to regain her balance. Within seconds she was standing straight and tall in the corner of the room. The center of attention.

She looked at her parents. Her mother had an expression of pure shock and fear plagued upon her beautiful face. Her father's was merely a mix of blind fury and tingling disappointment. Elsa gazed at them for only a second. She could not stand to look at them, those horrible emotions in their eyes, for any longer. In an instant, without a second thought, she turned and ran. Ran as far and as fast as she could. She didn't look back once.

As her feet pounded against the cold, cement ground, the sounds of her footsteps shattering the silence and echoing around and around in the large room, Elsa barely felt as her own frozen tears began to glide down face, leaving invisible lines of frost against her cheeks. Her parents weren't following her just yet, but she knew by experience that she was trailing a path of ice behind her. Wherever she went, it was only a matter of time before they would catch up to her. She ran anyway.

Before long, she had reached the heavy, steel door that had brought her here. She didn't even try to pull it open herself. It was far too heavy for her, anyway. Instead, she stuck out her hands, and in a single pulse of anger, a mound of ice pushed from her fingers and knocked that chunk of metal right off its sockets. What did it matter anymore? After what she'd already done today, it was practically nothing.

As she strutted through the gaping hole in the wall, she heard her father shout, from somewhere out of her line of sight, "Elsa, come back!" She paid his voice no attention. If anything, she ran a little faster.

Her mind was swimming with too many emotions to process. So many that even as her chest heaved from running up the hundreds of steps to the main floor of the castle, her body screaming for oxygen, she didn't slow down a bit. Somehow, she couldn't even remember how, she ended up crouched against the smooth, marble wall of the ballroom. Her back practically slid all the way down it, until she was sitting on the floor, her knees pressed against her chest and her head curled downwards. She pressed her hands to her face and trembled for the longest time, tears rolling silently down her cheeks and soaking her beautiful, hand-made dress. She didn't even care. Didn't even notice. Nothing mattered anymore.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sobbing there, alone, when she heard footsteps coming up in front of her. For some strange reason, she wished they were Anna's. She didn't want to speak to either of her parent's right now, and the prospect of someone finally seeing things her way—for Anna surely would—was just too beautiful to bear. But no, when the male voice rang out into the chill of the room, Elsa knew that it most definitely did not belong to her little sister.

"Elsa..." her father whispered, his voice sounding hollow with shock, "W-what have you done?"

He was probably speaking about the trails of ice she had left lying around the house. Up here, Anna could be anywhere, and she knew perfectly well that the girl was not to find out about any of this. But at the moment, she really didn't care. There wasn't any real risk to it, anyway, as it seemed that Anna was still deep in her princess-like slumber. Elsa wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that her sister was such a late riser.

"I don't know," she replied softly, her voice cracked with tears, "I don't know anything anymore."

Almost soundlessly, she felt as her father stepped closer to her. He turned his back to the wall and slid himself right down next to her frail body, his hand resting comfortably atop her knee. She wanted to shrink away from him, wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, and to truly hate his guts with every ounce of her being, yet for some reason, she just couldn't. For some reason, from the very stem of her soul, she loved her father with all of her heart. And she just couldn't let that go. In an instant, she had collapsed into him, pressing her head into his chest and flooding his royal robes with her tears. She had held those beads of water in for so long, but now they were finally out. She couldn't say she was surprised.

"I'm so sorry, daddy," she cried, her voice quivering like a child, "I'm so sorry, I just couldn't take it. But why? Why did you show me that? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO HER?"

Her father just shook his head sadly, one hand stroking her long, white hair.

"Its alright, Elsa," he replied simply, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the wall, "It's all alright. Your mother and I were only trying to help you. We shouldn't have… it was too soon. But its alright, just calm down now, okay? Just calm down, stop crying, it's all going to be alright."

At his request, Elsa lifted her head, sniffing silently and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She probably looked like a mess right now. Her hair flying out of her once-neat braid, and her eyes all puffy and red. But at the moment, her appearance was the least of her worries.

"I'm alright," she repeated, shaking away her despair, "I am."

Slowly, her father gave her a very weak smile. "Good girl," he replied calmly, causing her to beam at him, "Now, the servants need to scrape down the ice you made before Anna wakes up. But in the meanwhile, and I hate to say this, I'm going to need you out of the way."

Elsa nodded in understanding. "That's fine," she said slowly, "I'll just go up to my room. I promise, I won't come out until I feel like I can control myself again."

To her surprise, her father only hung down his head and shook it sadly.

"I'm afraid that's too much of a risk, princess," he whispered, and before Elsa could even process what was happening, two large guards had come out of nowhere and hoisted the girl to her feet, shoving newly stitched gloves onto her hands.

"W-what?" she gasped in horror, "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, but… we're going to have to confine you to your, erm, 'special room' until the adrenalin runs from your system."

Elsa was speechless. He couldn't possibly be talking about her dungeon… could he?

"B-but," she stuttered, the tears beginning to sting again, "I-I can't—"

"I'm sorry, Elsa," he said again, this time louder, "But this is the way it has to be for now. Don't worry, I'll come get you in an hour or so when I'm sure you're calm."

He turned to face the guards.

"Take her away," he said firmly, and they did just that.

Within fifteen minutes, Elsa was once again introduced to that familiar, snowflake doorway. As she was entered, her gloves were peeled off and her hands shoved deep inside those metal cups. She felt them click and lock around her wrists, the chains banging together as she pulled against them, and she cried out when she saw the guards shuffling out of her empty prison.

"Please!" she called to them, desperation in her voice, "Don't leave me!"

The first guard looked at her with an expression of cold stone, as if she were some sort of monster, and she looked away in heavy shame. The other, however, had kinder eyes, almost sympathetic, and he said to her guiltily, "I'm sorry, princess," before he walked out and shut the door behind him, leaving her, once again, all alone.

Almost immediately, Elsa felt a well of panic beginning to build up in the pit of her stomach. Alone and trapped, alone and trapped, alone and trapped. She'd rather be anywhere in the entire world than in this cage, she was sure of it.

Inevitably, she watched as a vein of frost began to crawl up the metal cups on her hands without her trying, turning the metallic gray to a cool blue. She waited, her heart in a swirl of hope and fear, for her ice to spread up the chains and crumble them away into a pile of icy crystals. Instead, however, as fast as they had appeared, the particles of frozen water melted right away. Elsa was surprised. She tried again, this time shooting the frost on purpose, but once again, it all melted. Something was happening here. This wasn't right.

As she gazed across the room, it didn't take her long to spot the thin, rectangular slits cut high up into the stone wall. From where she sat, sprawled on the hard ground, Elsa could still feel the soft push of the air that came from it. She couldn't quite tell what temperature it was, but she had the feeling that the air it blew was very, very hot. She remembered the way the guards had pushed back beads of sweat that had clung to their foreheads when they had locked her up. She hadn't noticed it then, but now it suddenly came back to her, seeming a thousand times more important. That slit was a vent. There must have been a furnace on the other side of that wall. Her parents had put it there to melt her powers.

That was smart, Elsa though to herself as she let go of any thoughts she'd had about escape. Very, very smart. If only she could carry a furnace with her wherever she when, then all her problems would be over.

Her mind now feeling comfortably numb, Elsa leaned her head down on the floor and curled up into a tight ball. The stone was extremely rough and hard, but the bedframe still hadn't been cushioned, so this was all she had. Slowly, her heartbeat once again loud and consistent in her ear, Elsa's eyelids stuck closed, and she fell asleep to the comforting thought that the worst was over. Her life could get nothing but better from here on out.

If only she knew how wrong she was…

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**Well, that was it... I worked really hard on this chapter, but since its so long, I'm sure there are plenty of mistakes in there, and its not really written as well as it could have been. Still, I'm really proud of it, and I'm super excited to write more. I have plenty of more ideas, one's even better than this one, and I seriously can't wait to write them. Please, if you liked this chapter (and even if you didn't) review! I just want to know that people are reading the things I write. What do you guys think... should I continue?**

**Oh, and btw, the reason Elsa couldn't break through her chains in this chapter, but she could in the movie, is because Elsa's powers get a lot stronger as she grows. At the age she's at now, she's simply not strong enough to break through.**

**Anyway... I hope you liked it! I'll try to update as soon as I can ;)**


	4. The Servant

**Hey there everyone! Its me, here with a new update!**

**Let me start off, again, by thanking you all for the wonderful reviews! Some of the comments you leave are not only very nice, but extremely insightful, and you really are all a great help. Just putting it out there, I'm seriously always open to suggestions, and though I may not use them right away, feel free to throw some out there if you're looking for something :).**

**Okay, so in this chapter, three years has passed since the last incident, and Elsa is now 14. I'll be completely honest with you... this chapter isn't all that interesting. Mostly its just a transitioning chapter, to help me get from one place to another. I'm mainly just introducing a new OC character, and to be honest, I have no idea how I managed to make it even LONGER than my last chapter. Anyway, though this one isn't great, I promise you the next chappie will be awesome. This is just necessary for the next one to make sense.**

**Well, what are you waiting for? You may begin reading ;).**

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When Queen Elsa looks back on her childhood life, the year she turned fourteen seems to be a lifetime in and of itself. It was, in her opinion, the year that all the years before it had been building up too, just waiting and waiting and waiting for that specific chance to make her boil over. It was at that delicate age, the line between child and adult, when she reached a turning point in not only her adolescence, but in her frame of mind, and her life spiraled off into an entirely new, twisted direction. Some might have called it just a simple phase of teenage rebellion, but Elsa has always known better.

She figures, really, that it all started the day that _he_ was hired.

It was barely a month after Elsa's birthday on that certain day, which of course would make it the beginning of winter. She had been born no less than fourteen years ago on December 21st, the exact day of the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere. Whether or not that date was related to her powers in any way, Elsa could only guess. Still, it pleased her to think that the beginning of her, was the beginning of winter.

The nightmares that had started nearly six years before were still plaguing her mind practically every single night she slept, and if anything, Elsa found that they were only getting worse. She would close her eye for one little moment, and suddenly she was in her own personal dungeon, rotting away all alone as she cried and pulled hopelessly against the metal chains that bound her. The tortured woman would present herself quite often in these dreams, her skin a freezing blue as she released a non-stop, earsplitting scream from the ceiling on which she hung. Her parents would sometimes stand behind her, looking at their daughter with expressions of fear and hate, yelling that she was a monster and deserved the same punishment. And always, no matter what, little Anna would never miss a dream, carved perfectly in ice and sleeping calmly in the corner, forever five years old.

It had gotten to the point where Elsa would wake up with not only her bed completely frozen over, but practically half her room. Elsa had learned how to quiet her screams at night, and she did a very good job teaching herself to cry in silence, but the ice she released was simply one thing that she knew she'd never be able to get under control. After many months insisting she learn how to deal with the nighttime chills, her parents had finally given in and assigned one of their oldest, most reliable servants to go on, what they liked to call, 'Elsa watch.' Not only was it his job to change her sheets and thaw her bedframe, as he done many times before, but he'd practically have to scrape down her entire room each morning, bringing her her meals and doing whatever else she wanted so that she could leave her room as little as possible. He and a few select others were the only one's who were let into the girl's horrifying secret. It was safer, that way.

The first person to have this job was a little old man named Herbert. Herbert was an ancient, gray-haired fellow who could have been no younger than eighty-five years old. He had worked for Elsa's royal family for over sixty years, apparently, and her father even claimed that he had been the man to change his diapers as a toddler. To be completely honest, Herbert was painfully slow at nearly everything he tried to do, and often he brought her her dinner cold, but still she found herself growing quite a liking to him. He had this very quiet, shy voice and a sweet little smile, and whenever he came for his daily chore of scraping down the ice he would always remark kindly, "Good morning, Miss Elsa." He was the only servant in the entire place that actually called her by her first name, rather than just referring to her as 'princess,' and she found herself quite enjoying that. Practically three times a week he would tell her 'what a fine young woman she was growing up to be,' and Elsa constantly found herself turning pink at this statement no matter how many times it was repeated, just proud that at least one person in that entire damn place didn't look at her as if she were some sort of monster.

She liked Herbert, but he was not the servant that changed her life.

One day, when she had been sitting at her desk expecting the old man to come along any minute or so, she heard a surprisingly formal knock ring out through her door, and her parents strutted in. They sat her down on her windowsill, since her bed was still frozen over, and told her calmly that Herbert had died in his sleep the night before.

She hadn't known the guy well, really, but it still made her sad. Death was always depressing, and the idea that she would never hear his soft, shy voice refer to her as 'Miss Elsa' again was enough to make her hang her head down in grievance. She could not attend the public funeral, as too many of the public were set to be there, but back in her room, she held a ceremony of her own. Though she knew perfectly well that she wasn't supposed to, Elsa wrote Herbert's name out of ice on her bedroom wall. When she was done, she took his favorite ice-scrapper and scraped it all away, going out onto her bedroom porch and releasing the frozen crystals into the wind. As she watched them float away, she said a silent thanks to the deceased man, and then slowly walked right back inside the comfort of her own room. She did not shed a single tear for him. After what she'd seen, she was doubtful anything could make her cry again.

Not even three hours after the funeral, her parents had once again entered her room, telling her that since Herbert had been of such great service, his next available kin would be hired for the same services. Herbert had a grandson whose name was, apparently, Benson, and he was looking for a new line of work. He had been a stable boy for rich families since he was practically ten years old, and though he was inexperienced in the area of personal service, her parents claimed he was quite well-mannered and hardworking, and that he would catch on quick. Elsa had merely nodded during their entire speech, pretending to listen as she received the first description of the man who would change everything for her. In all honesty, at the moment, she didn't really care. All she hoped was that he wouldn't call her princess all the time. That got fairly annoying, after a while.

She first met Benson three days after the death of Herbert, and as mentioned before, nearly a month after her fourteenth birthday. He had knocked on her door not firm and formally, like her parents, or quiet and politely, like Herbert, but nervously. As if his fists were nearly shaking when he tapped. This caused Elsa to give a little inward groan. Great, she thought to herself mournfully, he hadn't even met her yet, and _already _he was terrified of her. Her parents must have only just explained to him about her mysterious powers, and he probably thought she was going to freeze him solid or something stupid like that. _Great, just great._

"You may enter," Elsa had called as she sat on her windowsill, her legs crossed delicately as her loosest blue dress fluttered around her, somehow still tight at her chest. Elsa, being her teenage self, had begun to develop nearly a year ago, and as her chest swelled to that of a woman's, she had started noticing stares from a lot of the younger guards whenever she dared to leave her room. The looks they gave her, of what she knew could only be attraction, made her feel incredibly uncomfortable, and soon she found herself constantly crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to hide the obvious… but it was no use. Her entire body, now, was composed of very intricate, woman-like curves, and not even the loosest of her dresses could hide them. It was incredibly embarrassing. Puberty was annoying.

As Benson slowly pushed open the door, Elsa caught her first glimpse of her new servant. He didn't look at all like she had expected, though in all honesty, she hadn't really expected anything to begin with. His appearance just surprised her, that's all.

For starters, the guy had unbelievably dark hair, the kind that swept over his bright green eyes in a way that screamed adolescence rather than maturity, and his skin was shaded bronze to such an extent that she wasn't sure whether it was due to genetics, or was just an excessive tan. He had a plain face that was easy to overlook, but it held a sort of handsomeness to it if you observed it closely enough, and it fit well with his tall, broad-shouldered body. Elsa had met a few former stable boys in her time, so she was not surprised at all with his sculpted qualities that often came with the job. She had, however, expected him to be a quite a lot older. He seemed rather young to be a servant, especially in a castle such as this.

Once he had closed the door behind him, Benson had finally allowed himself to gaze fully at the girl before him, and immediately his eyes went wide, a twinkle shining from within them. Before she could stop him, he had leaned forward in a very polite, admiring bow.

"Good day, my princess," he said in a formal voice, "My grandfather has told me often of your incredible beauty, but I must admit, his kind words are nothing compared to the stunning image that sits before me now."

Elsa had been called beautiful plenty of times before, usually by a passing servant or guard, but also during the slim chances when her parents had been confident enough in her stability to allow her to meet a fellow king or queen that they were trying to impress. This, of course, allowed her to understand that when a person complimented another, they were usually only trying to flatter and impress, and there was little to no truth behind their words. Benson, however, had an air about him that said otherwise. When he raised himself from his bow, his eyes were shining like diamonds, and the crooked smile on his face made her feel as if the compliment were actually genuine. The nervousness she had sensed before, she realized, was not because he was afraid of her, but because he was actually _excited _to meet her, and was worried about saying or doing something wrong. Suddenly, to her own distaste, Elsa felt herself flush.

"Thank you, Benson," she said kindly, making sure to keep up that formal façade that her parents had imprinted in her so well, "And my condolences to your grandfather. He was truly a great man. May his memory live on."

At this, the servant smiled wildly, clearly taken aback that Elsa had liked his grandfather, or even known his own name, for that matter. "Yes, princess, thank you," he said way too fast, with way too much excitement in his voice to be proper. Elsa found herself smiling at this. After all those years of having to deal with annoying formalities whenever she had the chore of meeting someone, this was a nice break. It reminded her, almost, of Anna. No matter how hard her sister tried, she simply couldn't pull off that 'graceful' look all princesses were supposed to have. It was a funny comparison, but thinking about Anna merely made her depressed, so Elsa quickly drew her thoughts back to the present.

After she had handed Benson the ice-scrapper he was supposed to use on her bedroom wall, Elsa had once again made herself comfortable on her window ledge, watching him work with a tinge of curiosity. The way he looked at her ice, his eyes as bright as stars, she could just tell that he was impressed, his mind brimming with thousands of questions. She couldn't help but just be dying to answer them, but first, she had a few questions of her own.

"If you don't mind me asking," she began slowly, loving the way his ears practically seemed to perk up at the sound of her voice, "How old are you, Benson? You seem quite young to be a servant… are you not?"

At this, the boy gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm nineteen, princess," he replied honestly, rubbing the back of his neck at the admition that he was only five years older than she was herself, "And yes, I am young to be working here. My grandfather was supposed to retire when I turned twenty-five, so that I could be old enough to take his place, but as you saw, it didn't exactly work out that way."

Elsa nodded slowly, understanding. It was the same with her, being the king and queen's first-born daughter. When she turned thirty, her parents were supposed to automatically pass on the throne to her. However, if something happened to her parents before then—though nothing ever would, she was sure of it—her coronation day would be moved to the same year of her twentieth birthday, no matter if she were ready or not.

The girl watched in silence for a few more minutes, until suddenly she felt prompted to speak up again. She didn't know why, but the way the servant looked at her, as if she were an actual, interesting human being rather than just a stuck-up princess or a dangerous monster, was enough to make her want to talk to him all day. It was… strange. It had been forever since she'd had an actual, casual conversation with another person. It was as if she practically _thirsted _for it.

"Were you… close," Elsa blurted out suddenly, losing the formality that she had previously held in her voice, "I mean, you and your grandfather. Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

Benson didn't even seem taken aback by the odd amount of personal aspects hidden inside this question. He just seemed happy to have a reason to talk to her.

"Oh yeah, me and Herb were real close," he replied, nodding as he worked to scrape off a particularly stubborn patch of ice, "My parents both died pretty young, so he's the one who raised me. He's a good man, you know. We were poor, but he educated me well, and taught me a lot about how to act around rich folk. We both worked a lot, but we always found a chance to talk during the day. I can't really ask for more than that."

Elsa nodded slowly, suddenly extremely interested in what Benson had to say. She noticed, quite clearly, how as soon as she had dropped the formality in her voice, he had dropped his. He was talking to her as if she were just some random villager asking him some random question. She was surprised at just how open he seemed with her. It was strange, yet exhilarating, being treated like a normal person.

"Its sad that he passed," Elsa remarked, wondering if it meant that he was all alone now, "Do you have any other relatives? Anybody else that you live with?"

He only shook his head, but not in a sad way. In a wise way, almost, though she didn't quite understand why.

"Naw, not that I know of," he replied, shrugging, "What about you, princess? Is it just your little sis and your parents, or do you got others out there?"

This was his little way of trying to find out whether it was okay if he asked her questions, too. Elsa had no objections to this, and she did not hesitate to show it.

"I've got loads of cousins, apparently, but I've never really met any of them." Elsa would never, under any other circumstances, mutter the word 'loads' between her lips. It just wasn't a word that was in her vocabulary. It was so casual and teenage-like and just… not her. But in this instance, with the way this man was talking, she was afraid that if she didn't make herself sound more normal, he was going to go right back to treating her like royalty. She didn't want that, not at all.

"I see. I take it that you and your sister must have been very close back then, since all you really had were each other. Your parents told me how you're not supposed to interact with her much anymore. I don't know why, but I assume it's got something to do with your powers, and for that, princess, I must say that I am deeply sorry. It must get lonely, being up here all by yourself for so long."

Elsa was taken aback by his sudden change of topic. One second, she was telling him she had cousins. The next, he was bringing up the undeniable surge of loneliness that she had been fighting with for nearly half of her lifetime. For a brief moment, she felt like snapping at him. Telling him to mind his own business and to get back to his work. Luckily, she caught herself just in time.

"Um… yes. I guess you could say that."

At the uncertainty of her words, Benson looked up. He gave her a smile that seemed almost guilty.

"Sorry, princess. I went too far."

Elsa only shook her head. His words were surprising, but not entirely unwanted. She _was_ lonely, she couldn't deny that. And he seemed like he was the perfect solution to that problem. Didn't he?

"No, no. It's fine," she replied hurriedly, tucking a strand of snow-white hair behind her ear to hide the awkwardness, "I'm just… not much of a conversationalist, that's all. You'll have to forgive me for that. I'm just not used to such personal questions."

He nodded, and his eyes screamed sympathy. "Quite all right, princess," he replied, finishing off the remainder of the ice on one side of the wall, "Understandable."

Elsa couldn't find a way to reply to that, and soon the room had drifted into a very comfortable sort of silence. She watched as the man finished up his work, and then pushed himself up from the floor of which he sat, dusting off his slacks. She couldn't help but notice the pinkness of his cheeks and fingers, and she wondered guiltily what temperature her room was. He must have been freezing.

"I'm finished, princess," Benson finally breathed, placing his new ice scraper gently into one of his pockets, "I'll be back in an three hours or so to bring you lunch. Or, if you'd prefer, I can go pick you up a late breakfast."

"I think I'll just skip breakfast for the day, thank you," Elsa replied, smiling at him as warmly as she could muster.

"Very well then," he muttered as he made his way over to the door, "Good day then, princess."

As the door swung open, and her servant began to make his way out of it, Elsa suddenly felt the unexplainable urge to correct him.

"Benson?" she said quietly just as the door slammed shut. At first, she was worried he hadn't heard her, but then he pushed it back open again, looking backwards over his shoulder as if he were still in the middle of leaving.

"Yes princess?"

"Don't call me princess. My name is Elsa."

At this, a mischievous smile bloomed across his face.

"Of course, Elsa."

Then he shut the door, and he was gone.

…

The next few months simply flew by for Elsa, and she found herself, quite to her own surprise, actually enjoying them. Everyday, Benson would come and visit her—by choice, she liked to think, as well as necessity—and she had to admit, he was good company. That wasn't saying much, considering the fact that every human being would have been good company to a girl living in isolation, but still. She liked him.

Besides Benson, only about five other servants knew of Elsa's mysterious powers, and none of them had ever made such a good impression on her. Two of them were the guards whose job it was to drag her into her dungeon whenever she got out of control, and of course she'd never liked those guys much. One was her personal tutor, who taught her everything from advanced trigonometry to how to play complicated melodies on the piano, yet was constantly scooting away from her on the bench, as if she held some sort of infectious disease. Elsa couldn't forget the guard in charge of the torture chamber, the one who had seen her wild powers in action only three years before, but heaven knew she didn't feel too positively about him. And then there was that one nasty maid who had occasionally helped out Herbert scrape out her bedroom, and whose eyes always seemed to be locked in a permanent death glare. Out of all of these people, Benson was the one and only who didn't seem to be mortally terrified of her. In fact, he had let her know multiple times that her powers fascinated him. This simple statement never failed to both stun and amaze her. The only person who had ever seemed to be impressed by her powers was Anna, and she knew that those days were long gone.

Benson had had a pretty fixed schedule, at first. He would come into Elsa's room at around the same time each morning to scrape the ice, bringing breakfast for her to munch on while she waited, and then leave half an hour later. Later on in the day, he'd bring her lunch and dinner, but that would be all. Three times a day he'd visit, and three times a day he'd leave. That wasn't nearly enough, in Elsa's opinion.

She began to strike up conversations with him. They were subtle, at first. Just small talk, words laced with manners and simple formalities in the way she had grown accustomed to, but in only a matter of time she began to tell him things. Things she knew she probably shouldn't have, but she did it anyway, just for the heck of it. She told him, mostly, a lot about her old relationship with Anna. That was the only subject that wasn't too touchy for her. She'd go on and on about the things they used to do together, retelling funny stories and watching him laugh with real amusement in his eyes. Soon, she found, his thirty-minute morning visits had stretched to an hour, and instead of just delivering lunch and dinner, he was joining her for it. She never realized just how much fun it was to open up. To talk and laugh and just… not be afraid for once in her life. Just like every other normal person in the entire known world. She missed being a normal person, though in retrospect, she knew she'd never really been one to begin with.

She had started their little chats with the full intention of keeping them on that nice, happy, friendly level. The stories she told him were all quite pleasant, very bright and colorful and joyous, and just all around enjoyment. The darker memories were things, she figured, that needed to be kept to herself. There was no use in sharing her pain with another. That was selfish. Sharing her joy was better for the both of them.

That, at least, _had _been the plan, until Benson had all of the sudden decided to start filling her in on some of his own stories. Though at first he had been slightly uncertain about losing all his formalities, it didn't take long for him to plunge her into the position of, what she hoped, was a friend. He started off with telling her those same positive stories, describing the pleasant childhood memories that had occurred between him and Herbert, but as time wore on, his tales began to turn a bit more gruesome. He told her about the struggles of being born so poor. How, before he was forced to get a job at the age of ten, he and Herbert had barely enough income coming in to pay for food, and he had often found himself surviving off one slice of bread and a single cup of milk a day. He explained the hardships of being a stable boy, the way he often had to spend hours a day walking knee-deep in horse manure, his hands raw and blistered from scooping it all out. He even, surprisingly, opened up to her about Herbert's very recent funeral, describing how uncertain and bleak his future had looked before her parents had offered him the much higher-paying job of being a castle servant. She was, at first, a little overwhelmed by all the information he was supplying to her. She simply didn't know how to handle a friend, anymore. It had been so long since she'd had one. But gradually, she found herself getting quite used to it. Taking a liking to it, almost.

She knew, deep down, that the reason he was telling her these deep stories was because he wanted her to share her own. He must have realized that all her happy memories occurred no less than six years ago, must have sensed that there was something more to her life that she wasn't telling him about. So he was egging her on, urging her to share her pain with him. She tried hard to hold back, but the more he pushed, the harder it became. She was unsure, worried, confused. But inevitably, she did eventually begin to spill. She couldn't help it. Her mind was aching.

She told him, first, about the incident with Anna. About the reason she was stuck up in her room in the first place. Of course, as she expected, he had sympathized with her. Told her it wasn't her fault, that it was only a child's mistake, that she shouldn't hold herself accountable for what had all turned out all right in the end. She had only nodded solemnly, lacking enough enthusiasm to let him know that she didn't exactly agree.

On a roll, and unable to slow her speeding tongue, she began to tell him about all the times Anna had come knocking on her door since then, begging her to go out and build a snowman, and how difficult it was to say no each time. She, uncomfortably, admitted to the loneliness of being confided to one little room, and even filled him in on the details about her own personal dungeon, that even now lay beneath her, waiting for her body to once again turn it cold. Talking was painful, yet refreshing, and once she started, she just couldn't stop. It seemed, almost, that she had finally gotten everything off her chest.

That was, if she hadn't been holding back. There was one specific story that had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks now, ever since she'd met him, yet she had no intention of ever letting it free. Telling her new confident about the torture chamber, about the way the poor woman had been hung and whipped like a savage animal, and the icy blast that had ended her, was something she just couldn't bare to pull out into the open. It was, as if, saying it all out loud would have made it all real. At that moment in her life, it all still sort of felt like a long-lasting, terrifying nightmare. Horrible and gruesome, but merely a fantasy replaying in her brain. Her parents did not do that, that woman did not die. It just wasn't real. She refused to bring it out into the open and make it so. And besides, she decided Benson didn't need to share her pain on that one. He had done plenty already. She owed him more than enough. The gratitude she felt was astounding.

All in all, Elsa had to admit that she was the happiest she had been since the incident that had started this whole mess. Benson, she felt, was practically her older brother. He looked nothing like her, with his dark hair and skin contrasting brilliantly against her pale one's, but the way he acted around her, so casual and protective and kind, was just how she imagined a brother would. This, of course, exhilarated her. She felt as if she hadn't had a sibling in years, and to suddenly be thrust right back into that lovely, magical relationship gave her a feeling so warm in her chest that she was surprised it didn't melt her. Of course, he was no Anna, but he was as good a replacement as any, and for one wonderful year, he filled up that missing piece in her heart. Such a shame he couldn't have kept it filled for longer.

…

The day things began to take a turn for the dangerous was, at first, a day that seemed rather innocent. The small kingdom of Arendelle was just beginning to warm for spring, and passerby children were constantly stopping outside the castle walls to gawk at the beautiful, pink bud-covered trees that had been planted all along its base. Elsa enjoyed watching them from the safety of her own window, smiling at their smiles, laughing at their laughs. Children were cute, she thought to herself. How she longed to be one of them.

As she had sat there, watching and wishing and longing, Benson was having quite an interesting encounter with a child himself. A child he, somehow, hadn't even met until now.

Of course he'd seen Anna a couple of times before, wandering the empty hallways with a look of boredom, and usually mischief, stretched across her pretty little face, but never before had he given her a second glance. She was a cute girl, really, but he'd always found himself drawn to the mysterious. To the emotional, and the deep, and the dangerous. Cute just didn't cut it for him. That was why he spent so much time with Elsa. At the age she was now, she no longer held that childlike cuteness, but with so much intelligence dancing from her eyes, that empty space was more than filled with her daunting beauty. She was a special one, both he and his grandfather had known if from first glance.

He had only been strutting along a certain corridor that afternoon, carrying a tray of Elsa's dirty breakfast dishes to be brought to the kitchen, when the little eleven-year-old had literally ran right into him. One second, he was firmly on his feet, holding a handful of breakables. The next, he was tumbling to the floor, an array of fancy plates crashing into each other and shattering into a million pieces. A flash of strawberry-blond hair caught the corner of his eye.

"Oh my gosh! Sorry, sorry about that! I'll clean it up for you, I promise!"

Though her voice sounded frantic, the girl was clearly out of breathe, her chest heaving as it struggled to grasp onto oxygen. Wherever she had been sprinting to, she had been going fast.

"Oof, that's okay, that's fine… Anna, is it?"

The girl nodded. She reached down to pick up a shard of glass, but he quickly deflected her approaching hand. The last thing he needed now was for her to get a giant gash on her thumb, and for her ruby blood to join the mess that now covered the carpeted floor. She smiled at him guiltily after that, as if she pretty much knew she wasn't supposed to do it, yet had tried anyway, and he was surprised at the shape of her white, shining teeth. Not that they were weird in any way, but for the months he had known Elsa, she had rarely ever smiled at him. And if she had, it was always short lasting and closed-mouthed. Anna looked so much like her… it was weird seeing her teeth.

"Mind telling me where you were going, little lady?" he asked her kindly as he brushed up the glass onto the tray he was holding, remembering what Elsa had told him about her talkativeness, "You looked like you were in a pretty big hurry."

She grinned at him widely. The sheer joy radiating from her face at that moment was enough to make him pass out. He loved it.

"I was just playing a little game with myself. I like to do this weird thing where I run around the entire castle and time myself for how long it takes me each time. I mean, I don't actually _have_ an hourglass to keep the time for me, but I kinda just guess at how long it takes. I think I'm a pretty good guesser… but I wouldn't know, since I've never had any actual results to compare to."

The casual way she talked, her voice she cheery and childish and just full of life, was mind-blowing. He thought back to Elsa, again. To the way she always seemed to be holding back a part of herself, even during those rare moments when she agreed to open up to him. Her legs always crossed beneath her and her hands always clasped in her lap and her voice always kept so pleasant and formal, every word pronounced correctly. She wouldn't allow herself to laugh too loudly at his jokes, or eat lunch without using the proper utensils, and god forbid she ever used her _powers_…

Benson shook his head to snap himself out of it. It felt oddly light, considering the fact he'd only recently gotten his hair cut short for a more 'mature' look, but he refused to let himself focus on that insignificant detail. He had to remind himself that he was in the middle of a conversation right now, with no one less than the younger princess of Arendelle, and the very _least _he could do was pay attention during it. It would be so rude not to.

"Sounds fun. Is knocking over innocent bystanders and breaking a tray-full of your parent's valuable china part of this game?"

Eleven-year-old Anna laughed. Not in that sweet, polite way one would expect a princess to laugh, but in a way that was loud and reckless, slightly unsettling, yet at the same time nearly bursting with optimism and cheerfulness.

"No, not really. Its just an added bonus."

Benson found himself chuckling at this. She was a funny girl. So was her sister, he thought, but in a much subtler way. Anna was just all out there. It was nice. This was the way a child was _supposed _to act.

"I guess I'm going to need to get Elsa some new tableware for lunch, then," he remarked, more to himself than anything, as he finished cleaning himself up, his tray now packed with shards of glass.

"Oh, are you the servant that brings Elsa her food everyday?" Anna blurted out suddenly, her eyes getting wide and excited, the ends of her mouth turning upwards in a funny little smile, "Could you do me a favor, then? Could you ask her if she would maybe try eating lunch with me next time, like in the dining room or something? Or, if not, if she wants to ride her bike with me in the hallway today? It's sorta dangerous, I know, but that's what makes it fun… Oh! And maybe ask her if she wants to build a snowman with me during the first snowfall of winter. I mean, I know it's the middle of spring right now, but I mean, there's no harm in looking ahead! I'll be fun. Ask her, okay? Will you ask her? Will ya?"

Her voice had gotten so fast and excited, her lips flapping at neck-breaking speeds, that Benson hadn't even gotten half of what she'd just said. But he understood the gist of it. The poor girl wanted to hang out with her sister. She didn't even know…

For a moment, he felt seriously depressed. The way she looked at him, with her eyes so wide and innocent and hopeful, he saw in her a spark of childlike optimism that he'd never once witnessed in Elsa. It was as if Anna actually expected it to happen, even after all those failed attempts. To be honest, he felt sort of bad for both of the sisters. No matter which way he looked at it, this situation was not a good one.

After thoroughly promising that he would, though inwardly feeling guilty at the fact that he would have to back on his word, Benson made his way back to the kitchen, his mind now trapped in an endless swirl of unhappy thoughts…

…

Many hours later, Elsa sat once again on her windowsill. She had spent about an hour or two with her tutor—though not as long as usual, since it was the weekend—and had been humming non-stop songs under her breath for the past forty five minutes. She had been about to burst from boredom when she heard the lifesaving sound of laughing children coming from the crack in her window. Intent on finding something to occupy herself, she had wasted no time on settling herself down in front of it, ready to enjoy the show.

At first, the girl was unaware what was going on below, but she liked it. A group of little children were all running around in the garden just beneath her window. They weren't supposed to be there, of course, the area they ran on was strictly off-limits, but she made no move to stop them. It was almost… cute.

For a long while, Elsa observed the game the children were playing. She didn't understand it, but she at least attempted to put together the pieces in her head. It looked to her as if one child, this certain girl, was running around frantically, chasing all the other children as they screamed with child-like joy. She waved a little stick in her hand as it were a weapon, and when she cornered a little boy with it, she yelled something and he immediately fell to the floor, pretending to be dead. Elsa was curious, so she opened the window just a little bit wider. She wanted to hear what was going on.

"Look what she did!" one of the other little girls screamed, bunching together with a group of the other running kids, "She killed him!"

Elsa held back a little giggle as it tried to crawl out of her throat. The way the girl had said it was just too adorable. But what was it with little kid's obsessions with death? It was as if it were a _game_ to all of them. Not that she had the right to be judgmental. She'd thought the same, at that innocent age.

"She needs to be punished!" another boy yelled, "Let's go get her!"

As unimportant as those words seemed, Elsa's smile faltered a little on her face. She didn't know why. Something about this just didn't seem right.

"Yeah!" screamed a third boy, "She used witchcraft! She's a monster! Let's go kill the witch! KILL THE WITCH!"

Elsa's eyes went wide, her breath hitching in her throat. She seriously considered, right then and there, jumping off her stool and pushing the window shut, as this was clearly not something she wanted to see. But she couldn't do. She just couldn't.

She watched as the group of other children banded together and approached the witch girl, who was currently in the middle of using her wand to turn up rocks in the dirt. When she saw that the game was on again, she quickly straightened herself up, waving her stick in the air.

"WHO GOES THERE!" she yelled, her squeaky voice not really pulling off the intended affect, "Step closer and I'll turn you all into frogs!"

"No so fast, witch!" replied another, bravely, "We're here to put an end to your witchcraft. You killed a boy, so now we'll kill you!"

It was then that they descended on her, knocking the wand out of her hand and grabbing onto every limb that she had. She shrieked, but not in a bad way. In a way that children do when they're having a lot of fun. This shouldn't have scared Elsa, but somehow it did. It scared her a lot.

"Stop, you weaklings, stop!" yelled the girl, giggling madly, "Put me down this instant!"

"Let's drown her in the lake!" a little boy yelled, "That's what people do with witches!"

He was clearly talking about the large puddle in the corner of the garden, which was so shallow it couldn't have drowned an infant, and the witch girl shrieked some more, clearly having the time of her life.

"Yeah!" chorused the crowd, loving the idea, "Drown the witch! Drown the witch!"

Together, they all picked her up and started to drag her towards the puddle. She was going insane with excitement, kicking and laughing and pulling and squirming, and all the little kids around her were laughing like crazy. It was a sweet scene, really. A show of childhood imagination. But that was not how Elsa saw it.

Somehow, in her brain, the girl's childish scream of joy was replaced by an ear-splitting shriek of terror. Her kicking feet, dressed in nice brown shoes, turned dirty and bare, and her hair became dark and matted. The healthy pudge of her cheeks and limbs disappeared, and soon a sickly gauntness sprouted along her body. The puddle she was being carried to turned into a pile of chains. She was no longer a healthy little girl, she was a sick middle-aged woman. And she was going to be murdered. _She was going to be murdered!_

Before Elsa could stop herself, she screamed. She hadn't even realized it had been happening. One second, she was speechless. The next, her mouth was open and all her pain and fear was pouring out of it, bouncing around and around in her little room. It was loud and high-pitched, and clearly very audible, and as soon as it had left her lips, she wished it back. Just as the children below her stopped their game to search for the source of the strange noise, Elsa slammed the window shut. The game was over, at least.

She had sat there, her heart beating like a hummingbird in the quietness of the room, for what could have only been a few seconds. For after a moment, Benson came barging in, a wild look of panic in his eyes. He must have been coming to bring her lunch when he heard her screaming. How would she explain this to him?

She sat quite still as Benson looked at her, letting him take in the situation.

"What happened?" he murmured after a few seconds, "What was that?"

"I-I need to tell you a story," she stuttered, completely ignoring his other question, "I just… really need to. Right now."

He looked surprised at her strange, seemingly random request, but he did not deny her. Something about that look in her eyes told him this was something he'd have to patient about. Something was very, very wrong.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, pulling up her desk chair and sitting himself upon it, "Go ahead then, what's your story?"

And she had told him. She didn't want to, really, but she couldn't stop herself. Before she knew it, the memory of the woman in the chamber was flying out between her lips, no matter how hard she tried to keep it back. She just wasn't thinking clearly at that time. All she knew was that she really couldn't hold it all in anymore. She couldn't sit there pretending that what had happened wasn't real. It _was_ real, and she needed to let somebody know that. She needed him to know. She couldn't be the only one anymore.

As she had sat there, her knees tucked into her chest as she began to let him into the darkest parts of her memories, Benson had sat across from her, his heart sinking in his chest. He couldn't help but hear the pain and desperation hidden behind the monotonous quality of her usually pretty voice. Her eyes were wide and far away, as if she were literally reliving it all as she spoke, and it broke Benson's very soul to compare them to Anna's eyes. Hers had been so innocent, so hopeful, so optimistic. Sure, they had held their share of pain, but not enough to turn them into what Elsa's had become. Anna was still grasping onto the loveliness of adolescence, her joy not yet lost, but Elsa? She was a shell of her former self. Full of pain and suffering and loneliness, not a single hope to pull her through. How could anyone live like that, much less a little girl?

Poor child. He felt so bad for her at that moment. Those powers she had, they were supposed to be a blessing, he was sure of it, but somehow they had turned into a curse. She was terrified of them, really. It made her think of herself as a monster. Holding them in, as she had been trained to do, was tearing her apart from the inside out. And her parents… her _parents_. At that moment, no matter how kind they had been in giving him this job, he hated them. Despised them with all of his being. How dare they. Everything that had ever been wrong with Elsa was all their fault. Her fear, her self-hatred, her hopelessness. What were they thinking, showing her something like that? What kind of horrible people would _do_ that to their child?

He had been so drawn into his own anger, sitting there on his chair and fuming, that he had only barely noticed when Elsa suddenly went quiet. Her story was done. She had spilt everything. Now she was completely empty.

Benson glanced down at his fists, which were curled up into tight balls at his sides, and then looked right back up at her again. She was practically shivering, her eyes glistening as ice slowly began to crawl up the windowsill. The ice didn't matter, though, he'd clean it all up later. What mattered was the thing he was about to say next. The thing that would, eventually, lead to his own demise.

"Elsa, I'm getting you out of here."

* * *

**Okay, so I know that chapter wasn't too exciting, but I promise you next one will be better. Because of the fact that she's still at the castle in the movie, you probably already know that Benson's promise to get Elsa away didn't really work out. But you still don't know _why _it didn't work out, so at least you have something to look forward to. **

**Just a little spoiler alert, next chapter will include Elsa finally seeing her powers, and herself, as something beautiful, rather than horrible. You'll also get to hear what Benson is planning, and I'm going to write this big Elsa/father confrontation scene (which, I'll admit, I've been dying to write since before I even started this fic XD. It's going to be so dramatic and epic).**

**Well, I'll talk to you all next week, I guess! See you then ;). **


	5. The Failure

**Okay, so I know I'm updating really early, but I just couldn't stop myself from posting again XD. I was just so, so excited to write this chapter... it was killing me. I started it Saturday, finished it Sunday, and spent forever fixing it up since then.**

**This is the kinda a big chapter, so it was very important to me that I made it good. I really hope I succeeded. I had such an amazing time writing it, though, so that's usually a pretty good sign. Just warning you now, it get's pretty dramatic (near the end) and also kinda depressing. I'm not entirely satisfied with it yet, it could still use a lot of work, but for now, I feel comfortable enough to share it with you. Enjoy :). **

**Btw, your guy's reviews mean the world to me, so for all of you who have reviewed, thanks a bunch! I've spoken long enough, though. You may now begin reading...**

* * *

For the first night in a long, long time, Elsa did not have a nightmare. Though, in all honesty, that was probably due to the fact that she didn't sleep.

It was all because of _him_, she knew. How could she even _think_ about drifting off when she still had those words of his bouncing around and around in her head? They stuck like gum into the smallest crevices of her brain, and she found herself pulling and pulling at them to no avail, trying hopelessly to free herself. But no use. Something about the things he'd told her just refused to leave her mind.

He wanted to get her out of here? Was he insane? He must have been, because Elsa just couldn't process what he'd meant by that. It didn't make any logical sense, not in her head.

She could barely believe it had only been mere hours since she'd finished that conversation with him. It felt like a lifetime, already. She'd been lying face-down in her bed ever since then, and her hours of intense contemplation had left her feeling both emotionally exhausted and mentally dizzy. Or maybe she was mentally exhausted and emotionally dizzy. She really couldn't tell. Her mind was too fuzzy. Thinking was hard.

As much as she tried to stop them, the words Benson had said to her kept popping right back up into her mind, running through her head as if taunting her. She groaned in frustration. Why couldn't they just leave her alone and let her sleep?

_"You're not a monster, Elsa. I know the things they've done to you may make it seem so, but you're not. I promise. Why can't you just believe me? You need to stop assuming the worst of yourself."_

Elsa's eyes popped open. She knew, of course, that the voice she heard had only come from the depths of her own brain, a mere memory of the words Benson had told her earlier today, but they were so loud and powerful and clear in her head that for a single moment she was almost positive that he was in the room with her. She peered around nervously, and once again sure that she was all alone, set her face back down on the pillow. _Go away, Benson. Get out of my thoughts._

The moment he had proposed his strange desire to break her out of her own castle, Elsa remembered just sitting there and staring at him in silence, almost positive he was joking. But Benson had hardly noticed. He'd had that glint in his eyes again. His mind was a thousand miles away. He was insane, he really was.

"Yeah," he had murmured in the silence, a smile blooming across his face as if he'd just made an ingenious realization, "Yeah… I'm getting you out of here."

"What?" she had asked him, her heart suddenly beginning to beat painfully in her chest, "Getting me out of where?"

He hadn't even acknowledged her. In retrospect, his mind was so far away he probably hadn't even heard her to begin with, but Elsa was still offended. She stared at him, slightly disturbed, as he continued to talk to himself.

"I can sneak you out of the servants gate at midnight. Everyone will be asleep, and your parents are so busy all the time, they probably won't even notice you're gone until at least a week later. I can bring you to the snowy North Mountains… you'll be in her element there. They'll never find us, not as long as we're hidden way up—"

"BENSON!" Elsa had interrupted in exasperation, annoyed at the way he talked to the wall as if she were not right besides him, "What are you talking about? Please tell me!"

For some reason, besides having been nearly deaf before, this time he seemed to have heard her. He snapped his neck to the side to look her in the eyes, and she'd never seen his face so bright before.

"I'm talking about helping you escape this… prison, Elsa. I'm talking about letting you be free."

If her eyes had been wide before, they were practically popping out of her head now.

"What do you mean by that? I am free!" she had exclaimed, barely believing her ears, "And this is no prison. It's a castle, Benson. One of the best in the world, in fact. I'm here for my own protection, and for the protection of everyone around me. I can't imagine being anywhere else."

At this, Benson's eyes narrowed. He didn't seem to be in the mood to even consider the things that she was saying. "Come on, Elsa. Don't tell me you still believe in all that crap. You're smarter than that, I know you are. You've been brainwashed by your parents, and I think you're just as aware of it as I am. You're just in denial."

Below the initial surprise of the bluntness of his statement, and the lack of sugar-coating to soften his usually kind words, Elsa had felt an uncontrollable surge of anger beginning to well up in her chest. She couldn't stop herself from nearly hissing her next words. They were more offensive then she'd intended them to be, but once she'd said them, there was no taking them back.

"Don't you dare insult my parents, you _wretched servant_. They _love_ me. Everything they do is for my benefit! They're the only one's who have kept me from completely losing control. The only one's who've kept me from turning into a monster. I support them with all my heart, there is no brainwashing involved."

He scoffed at her words. Suddenly, he looked furious at her, which was perfectly fine with Elsa, because she was _just_ as furious at him. It was strange how two people could go from sharing their most personal stories one moment, and then be on the verge of killing each other the next. Strange, yet interesting. The two of them gave each other matching death glares, and the girl could already feel the ice pricking at her fingertips.

"Elsa, you're parents may love you, but they sure as hell have a strange way of showing it," he countered, his voice angrier than she had ever heard it before, "They've kept you locked up in a single room for _six_ years, for god sakes, without even your own sister for company! They built you your own personal dungeon, and don't even get me started on that woman they tortured right in front of your own eyes! Did you ever wonder what kind of parents would _do_ that to their own kid? I know you have, you're just reluctant to admit it... Please, Elsa, why won't you just see the light?"

Suddenly, Elsa began to realize that the anger Benson was feeling was not directed towards her, but towards her parents. He still loved her just as he always had. Against the girl's own judgment, tears began to prick at her eyes. There was truth in that statement, she knew there was, but the truth was ugly, so she refused to let herself see it. She sucked her tears right back up again, but too late. Benson had seen. He knew he was getting somewhere, and he was ready to strike again and again, until he was absolutely positive that he had accomplished his goal. He went on to say the things he'd told her about not being a monster, and as she'd listened she'd bitten her lip in discomfort, tasting a tint of blood.

"Please, Benson, just be quiet. I don't want to talk about this right now," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut to try and block it all out, "My parents are not perfect… of course I realize that, but they're still my parents. I don't need you to tell me how horrible they are. They do what they think is best."

The servant sighed, his head beginning to droop forward. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were shining with droplets of water. She didn't know why. There was nothing for him to be crying about.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her sadly, his voice all the sudden very quiet, "But is this really how you think you deserve to be treated? To be left all alone in a room and expected to solve your problems yourself? Elsa, I don't know about you, but I for one think you deserve more than this. Your powers… maybe holding them back isn't the answer."

She sniffed silently to herself, wiping her eye with the back hand of her hand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've tried to control them for so long, and it's just not working. Have you ever thought that, just maybe, you're going about it all wrong? Trying to hold in your powers is obviously a failing project, so why not go in another direction? Why not try just letting them go?"

Elsa had to stifle a gasp. Let them go? That seemed dangerous. It also seemed… kind of exciting.

When she didn't respond to his remark, Benson continued, his eyes regaining their usual shine. "I could take you out to the mountains one day, where there are no people, and you could use your powers without fear of hurting anybody. You'd practice with them, just the same way that a person might practice swinging a baseball bat or something, and eventually you'd get better at it. You'd gain more control over it. I mean, I don't know for sure, but it's worth a shot, isn't it? Obviously, the path your traveling down isn't really getting you anywhere, so there's really no risk in going a different way. I've lived without a house for years, so I'm more than sure I'd be able to keep us both alive during the time it will take you to learn."

She had just looked at him for a few seconds, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Her mind had already been so tired, so full of emotional discharge, that she could barely think to begin with. How did he expect her to mull over something like _this_? Finally, after far too long, she had answered him, her chest feeling awfully tight.

"Oh my god...you're right, Benson. You're absolutely right! I… need to get out of here."

Before she could stop herself, the corners of her mouth had twitched upwards. A thought entered her mind that she immediately felt ashamed of, yet she simply couldn't hold it back. _She was finally getting out of here!_ She couldn't imagine any better news, and suddenly a laugh erupted from her throat without her even trying. It tickled her cheeks, and crinkled her nose, and soon her eyes were flashing just as warmly and brightly as Benson's had always done. In only a matter of time, she would finally be free. Finally be free...

Now, so much later, Elsa was still thinking about the things Benson had said to her, lying awake in bed as the rest of the world was deep in slumber. Somehow, at this time of night, some of the excitement had drained out of his wonderful idea, and in her mind it was replaced with anger and guilt.

How could she even _think_ of leaving? That idea was so foolish, so childish. As much as she wished it so, Elsa was not a child anymore. Those years had come and gone as quickly as the setting sun, and now they would never rise again. She couldn't just go around pretending to believe in miracles and fairy-tail endings... what was she thinking?

And her poor parents… just by talking to Benson she was betraying them. If she were really a good daughter, she'd have already told them both about his plan, and he'd have been arrested for treason hours ago. Why would Benson even do this to her? He must have known of the conflicting emotions it would fill her with. Wasn't her life bad enough already? Why did he have to complicate it even more?

God… she hated that guy. But, deep down, she also loved him like a brother. Because it seemed to her that he was the only person in the entire known universe who really, truly cared for her. It was an obvious fact that if he were ever caught trying to sneak a princess out of her castle, he would be arrested immediately. Yet he wanted to do it anyway, because he knew it was better for _her_. She could barely wrap her mind around the amount of care and selflessness it must have taken him to even imagine it. Suddenly, her whole body was filled with a strange sort of warmth. It was comforting and safe and beautiful, and as she wrapped it around her freezing soul, she took it as a chance to finally find her way out of reality.

Even in sleep, her body resting in the deepest of slumber, Elsa did not have a nightmare. All night long her mind was filled with images of a white, snowy mountain. Of Benson standing tall and proud on its peak. Of the place that would, eventually, become her new home. Maybe it was crazy to believe it would happen, but she couldn't help herself. For so long, ice and snow had been her cage, but now it would be her freedom.

If she believed that, maybe she was still a child after all.

…

After that one, troublesome night, Benson's daily visits began to change quite abruptly, but in Elsa's opinion, only for the better. The light chats between them had ended. The daily-lunches together had ceased. The ice-scrapping was no longer necessary, and their never-ending goblet of stories had drizzled dry. All of these things, however, were replaced by something a thousand times more exciting.

Everyday Benson would arrive, practically every single chance he got, and together the two of them would work on Elsa's powers. They'd go out onto her little balcony, which connected directly to Elsa's room, and he'd just start telling her to let it all go. The balcony was facing towards the back of the castle, away from the village and all of its meddlesome villagers, yet even though there was little to no risk of her being seen, Elsa had felt reluctant at first. She didn't know why, but every time she was about to release a burst of ice, she just felt a tiny tugging at the back of her conscious, telling her not to. Telling her it was bad, dangerous, stupid. That tugging was the voice of her father, and as much as it hurt, Elsa ignored it. She had to learn to control herself, and maybe this could be the way.

On that balcony, with Benson beside her, and the entire beautiful world in front of her, Elsa would throw out her hands and just release. Release her tension and her fear and her anger and her guilt, and it would all come out as a beautiful burst of snowflakes. In the middle of summer, they sparkled beautifully in the air, lasting only a few seconds before dissolving in the heat. Elsa would make ice-sculptures on the wooden ground, dress the bland railing in intricate, icy decorations, and even line the back of the castle in gigantic snow-flake prints. Each time she did, it was as if a huge weight was being removed from her chest. One she didn't even know she had. It was fascinating, exhilarating, wonderful. And the best part was, the more she let go, the easier it was to hold back in later on. She couldn't get enough of it.

"It's because you were never meant to hold your powers back, Elsa," Benson had explained to her one sunny afternoon, when she told him about this wonderful sensation, "After all those years, all that ice has just been packing up inside you. So much so that it just kept spilling out at random times. Now that you've let it go, though, there's less to hold in, so it's easier to do it."

"But why does it feel so _good?_" she had asked him, feeling like the child in the way she lay stretched out of the balcony floor, basking in the sun, "It's like... I can't explain it... but it's almost as if I feel lighter once I let it all go. Like I can fly."

At this, Benson had smiled. Smiled like a parent to a child. Like he was really, truly proud of her. "I don't know for sure," he had told her warmly, "But I bet that ice has been weighing down your soul, too. It's what's been filling you up with all that fear and unhappiness you've been drowning in for so long. Now, every time you release some of that ice, you're releasing some of that pain you've been holding in. I can't imagine how great you'll feel after a few years of this, Elsa... I swear, one day, maybe even pretty soon, you're going to get complete control of your powers. I just know it."

Elsa had to admit, even though Benson hadn't had a formal education, he was an incredibly smart guy. She admired him. If he really thought that that was the truth, then maybe using her powers wasn't such a bad thing after all. For she couldn't deny just how beautiful those snowflakes looked when they glistened under that summer sun. She couldn't deny the elegance of each and every ice-sculpture she created, looking like some miraculous gift of nature. And she definitely couldn't deny just how great it felt to make those things, too. Maybe her parents really were wrong. No, not maybe… _of course they were wrong!_ These powers, Elsa realized, were a blessing. Not a curse. Suddenly, every moment she'd ever tried to hold them back seemed like a wasted moment. Look at all the things they could do! Look at all the things _she_ could do! Oh, she was so proud, she could barely breath. She was no monster… she was a miracle. Now, at last, she had seen the light.

Benson had told her that the best time for them to leave would be in the midst of winter, and she had agreed whole-heartedly. They decided that they could sneak out during some sort of major snowstorm. That way, any icy trail they might leave would be immediately disguised, and Elsa's white hair and pale skin would blend in far better than it would in the sunlight. Besides, that was the time of year where Elsa was in her element, and if they ran into any trouble, she would surely be able to use her powers to get them out of it. All they needed was to get to the North Mountains, and as soon as they did, they'd be safe for life. Unless the King and Queen opened up about Elsa's mysterious powers—and they never would, she was sure of it—no one would ever think she'd survive up there, so no one would ever even bother to look. The two of them would never be found… never be found.

And so, of course, Elsa waited for winter with deep anticipation coursing through her veins faster than her own blood. She could barely take it, anymore. She just wanted to get out of here. She just wanted her life to start.

When autumn began, Elsa watched each colored leaf fall from the trees with excitement, and Benson and her soon began tying up any loose ends within their plan, deciding how they'd make shelter and which precautions they would take to hide themselves and even what kind of food they'd eat. Over and over again, they went over their escape. It required Benson's special key to the servant's exit, as well as some serious sneaking around, but within a week the girl knew it by heart. When winter finally announced its arrival with a flurry of tiny snowflakes, Elsa could barely breathe.

"Should we leave tonight?" Elsa had asked Benson one afternoon, her heartbeat fast and excited, "Should I say goodbye to Anna, or is that too dangerous?"

The hardest thing about leaving, Elsa had realized long ago, was that she could not take Anna with her. Elsa loved her sister, she really did, and she could already tell that it would hurt to be separated from her, even though they'd been growing apart for years. Still, she knew that it would be better for Anna once she left. The gates could finally be opened, and the girl could once again be reintroduced into society. She might be upset for a little while, but she'd make new friends pretty soon, and before long her big sister would just be a long-lost memory in the back of her brain. It was the better for the both of them, it really was.

"No, we're not going yet," Benson had replied, much to Elsa's disappointment, "It's too early, the snow isn't thick enough. I don't think we should be in too much of a rush. I mean, you've seen Arendelle during the winter, it practically turns into the arctic with all the snowstorms it gets. They'll be better times."

Elsa nodded, understanding. "What about that thing with Anna?"

Benson gave her a very guilty, compassionate smile, and Elsa knew his response before he even said anything.

"Maybe one day you could write her a letter and explain to her why you left, but for right now, I just don't think she'd let us go peacefully. She'd either want you to stay, or want to pack her bags and go right with us, and it's just—"

"Too dangerous," Elsa interrupted, finishing his sentence, "I understand, Benson. It's okay."

Benson nodded happily, and a little bit of the guilt drained from his eyes. He must have still sensed some of her disappointment, though, because the smile he gave her right afterwards was clearly forced.

"Good, then. I'll be right back, I've gotta go bring your dishes to the kitchen. You finish up your packing, okay? Bring some of your smallest, lightest dresses, and anything you might need to serve as a reminder of your family. We'll be leaving any day, so you need to be prepared as soon as possible."

"Got it," Elsa replied, nodding in acceptance, "I'll see you later, then, Benson."

The servant said a quick farewell and quietly walked out of her room, never to enter it again. Little did the girl know that this would be the second-to-last conversation she ever had with the man, and the last would be far less pleasant.

…

Three days, four hours, eleven minutes. Three days, four hours, twelve minutes. Three days, four hours, thirteen minutes. And on, and on, and on.

That was how long it had been since she last saw Benson.

Elsa liked to think of herself as a very composed young woman, but at that moment in time, she was simple freaking out. There was no other way to put it. She kept pacing around and around in her tiny room, throwing herself down upon her bed only to jump right back out of it again. She just couldn't stay still, not with the way her mind kept racing around. What had happened to him? Why hadn't he shown up? Where had he gone to? This was the longest time, since the day that he had arrived, that she'd went without seeing him, and to be completely honest, it was killing her. Not only because she was worried, but because she missed him. It got lonely, being up here all by herself. She needed someone to talk to.

Though she knew she was only making it worse, Elsa couldn't stop herself from counting every minute that went by, feeling the way her hope slipped away each passing second. What if had decided it was just too dangerous a plan, and had simply abandoned her? No, he hadn't done that. He couldn't have. He cared about her too much, he was far too good of a person. It had to be something else. But what could it be? She pondered for hours, but nothing came up. Deep down inside her mangled, twisted soul, she thought she knew the truth, but it was simply too horrible for her to address. In that instance, not knowing was a thousand times better than letting that guess cross her mind.

Nearly an hour later, it was the desperation still swimming within her veins that made her do something she now considered very unpleasant. It was the fear still sticking to her conscious that made her speak to the last man on Earth that she wanted to speak to. It was the anxiousness still beating in her heart that made her pull herself together for just long enough to complete her deadly task. She went up to see her father. She had to, he was the only one who might have known.

"Dad," Elsa had said very innocently that morning, after knocking lightly on the door to his studies, "May I speak to you for a moment?"

It was as if he had been waiting for her, his response was so immediate. "Come in, Elsa!" she heard him call from the other side of the wood, and slowly she let herself enter.

"What is it, princess?" he asked her kindly, turning away momentarily from a tableful of documents. The way he spoke to her, so fatherly and loving, made her cringe on the inside. Made her feel so very, very guilty for the fact that she would so soon by leaving him. But, she reminded herself, she had no reason to feel guilty. He had done far, far worse to her, even if it had been of good intentions.

"Well, father, it's just that my servant… his name is Benson, I think… hasn't shown up for duty in a few days. My bed has remained icy for the last couple of nights, and I've had to go downstairs and fetch my own meals. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

After talking so casually to Benson for so long, speaking formally felt unnatural and strange on her lips. She longed to use the phrase 'um,' but knew her father would scold her for it.

"Has he now?" his father asked, his eyes widening slightly in false surprise, "Well, I have no idea where he could have gone. Don't worry, though, princess. If he does not turn up after a quick search, I'll just assign a new servant to work on your room. How about that lovely maid, Gretchen? She's a hard-worker."

Inwardly, Elsa groaned. Gretchen was that cynical woman who used to help Herbert scrape down her room when it got too much for his old body to handle, and she was the one who always seemed to be giving Elsa the evil-eye. That servant was the last person on Earth who Elsa would consider 'lovely,' and she most definitely did not want her to be her new maid. But, in reality, it almost didn't seem to matter. Not like she was actually staying here. As soon as Elsa found out where Benson was hiding, they would be off. She would begin her new life from scratch. Gretchen would never get the chance.

"Oh," said Elsa, trying to hide the growing suspicion in her voice at the way that her father was most clearly lying to her, "I see. Thank you, then, father."

Without another word, the girl strutted out of the room, her heart drumming loudly in her chest. She was most certain, now, that her father was hiding something. Just by the way he looked at her, with his eyes so falsely innocent and his smile holding a tinge of fatherly guilt. Not to mention, she was quite sure that if the servant had actually not shown up for work in three days, her father would be fuming mad, and would have fired him immediately. The calm way he acted was just not in character. Something was off...

It was practically fate, the way that as soon as she made that realization, Elsa found herself face to face with the large, black door that had led her to the dungeons so many years before. On the way to her father's studies, she had passed by it without even a second glance, but now? Now it seemed to be the answer to all of her questions. The tool to unearthing all the secrets surrounding her. Very carefully, Elsa approached it, laying her hand gingerly on the doorknob.

_Darn._ It was locked. Just like it had always been. Elsa's first instinct was, of course, to just blow it open with her ice powers. But that would be too loud, too noticeable. If she wanted to get all the way down to the dungeons, she'd have to _sneak_ down there. But how?

Before she could entirely process what she was doing, Elsa had created a tiny, thin stick of ice out of nothing more than thin air. In one foul swoop of the arm, she had jammed it into the door's metal lock, jiggling it around. _Lock-picking._ During one particular day of discussion, about a thousand years ago, Benson had shown her how to do it, just for the fun of it. Now, as the door clicked open, Elsa silently remarked on just how much more useful it had turned out to be than she had thought.

When the door was safely closed behind her, and Elsa was sure no one would be able to hear a thing, the girl started stampeding down the stairs, the heel of her shoes creating a riot of clicking beneath her. She was so anxious, she doubted she'd be able to slow down if she tried. In little more than five minutes, she had already reached the base of the stairs, standing still for only a moment to catch her breath. Here were the dungeons again. Boy, did they bring back memories. And, of course, none of the good kind.

For a moment, Elsa gazed around, and saw that all the cells besides her were empty. She gave a little sigh of relief. As much as she wanted to see Benson again, the idea of him being caught and locked up in here was not something she wanted to occur. Oh well, maybe he was just—

"Elsa," a voice coughed, sounding so gruff and cracked that it scared her, "Is that you?"

Elsa's heart stopped. She looked around, but still saw nobody. When she walked a little ways forward, however, something caught the corner of her eye. It was a dark figure hiding in the way back of a dirty prison cell, masked almost fully by the shadows. From where it lay, it wasn't visible from the door. The girl, suddenly, felt terrified.

"B-Benson?" she stuttered, her lungs throbbing in her chest, "Benson, it's me, Elsa."

From way back in the darkness, Elsa saw some movement, and with a grunt that sounded very painful, the figure stood up. He limped towards her, and when his face finally caught the light, Elsa cringed. It was Benson, yet at the same time, it wasn't.

"Oh my god," she gasped, an expression of complete horror and pain spreading across her face, "W-what happened to you?"

He looked, in all definitions of the term, truly horrible. For a moment, she couldn't even recognize him. But then his eyes sparkled, and she knew that he was in there. He had to be.

Looking at him now, Elsa could barely believe how his once kind face had turned so abruptly into a masterpiece of bruising. His nose was bent oddly to the side, clearly broken, and spewing dark, thick drops of blood as rapidly as a running faucet. The crimson liquid dripped methodically down from his chin, spilling onto the cold metal floor in quick little 'plops', and Elsa felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit, heat rushing to the pit of her stomach in fear and disgust. As she struggled to hold it all back, she noticed his split lip, and the way that one of his eyes was so sickeningly puffy it seemed to be stuck closed. A wide, bloody gash was stretched across his forward, looking fresh and new, yet already dripping with pus and infection. When her nose managed to wrap around rancid smell emanating from his filthy cell, Elsa suddenly felt her eyes beginning to tear up, though that was probably not the only reason...

"I knew it was you," Benson whispered, his voice so quiet the girl had to struggle to hear it, "I could feel it, it got so cold all of the sudden..."

His eyes looked so hopeless compared to how they had been no less than three short days ago. It was as if the life had been squeezed right out of him. Elsa could barely stand to look into them, yet she couldn't look away.

"Benson-" she began slowly, her voice sounding so quiet. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she began her sentence anyway. She just needed to feel his name on her lips.

"Elsa," he interrupted, his chest heaving with dry sobs, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I failed you." He looked completely heartbroken, at that moment. Guilty, almost. She couldn't even begin to guess why. This was not his fault... if anything, it was hers. He had been brought here only for trying to help her out. She should have been the one begging for forgiveness. Not him. Anybody but him.

"What happened?" the girl repeated again, her eyes wide and stinging with tears, "Please, tell me, what happened?" She needed to know. Her entire being was practically screaming for it.

The man just shook his head slowly, winced at the movement, and after far too long, answered. The pain was so evident in his voice, a little part of her died right then and there. Oh, Benson...

"I-I told someone," he chocked, "This maid named Gretchen. She used to be friends with Herbert and I thought… I thought… I could trust her. I asked her to explain to Anna what happened once we were gone, I just thought it would make you feel better about leaving. B-but, she told them. She told your parents, Elsa. I'm so sorry…"

A sob welled up in Elsa's throat, too, and her voice was shaking so wildly that her response was almost inaudible.

"They… they beat you, didn't they." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

The man didn't try and verify her words, but the look of darkness in his eyes was answer enough. Elsa moaned loudly. She couldn't help herself. This was all too much to absorb.

Slowly, without even knowing what she was doing, Elsa stuck out her hand and rested it gently on a dark bruise painted on Benson's cheek. She just wanted to touch him. Feel the warmth of his smile for just one more measly moment. She recoiled immediately, though, when he cringed away in pain.

"I-I'll go get my dad!" the girl yelled suddenly, her voice full of pathetic desperation, "He'll let you go… I'll make him!"

That was the only option left, it seemed. Elsa could break the servant out of his prison with her powers, but she was no magical healer. Unless she got her father to bring him to the infirmary, Benson was done for.

At her words, Benson reached forward and weakly grabbed the girl's hands. He didn't even seem to care about how freezing cold of her fingers, and despite all logic, Elsa could've sworn that for a single moment, she felt warmth. The young man looked her in the eyes, and the expression in them showed that he knew something that she didn't.

"I'm sorry, Elsa," he whispered, trying as hard as he could to squeeze her hand tightly in his own, "I failed you… I failed you. I only... wanted... to show you... that you're not... a monster. Remember that, Elsa. You're not a monster. You're beautiful."

Unable to take the finality in his voice, Elsa quickly pulled away, her eyes blurred with water. If this really was the last moment between the two, then she had so many things she wanted to say to him... but no. It wasn't. Right now was not the time to spill out her heart. That time would come later. Right now, it was time to save his life.

"I'll stop him!" she screamed in denial of the obvious, backing away towards the steps with her eyes so wide and fearful, "I'll stop him! I will, I promise!"

On that very spot, she turned quickly on her heels, not even noticing the way that Benson's hand had reached out to her in hopelessness, begging her to stay with him in what he knew would be his final moment. Elsa had sprinted upstairs, not even looking back once. She would soon grow to regret that. It would be the last time she would ever see his face again. The last time that spark in his eyes would ever even glint in her direction.

From here on out, a new face would be added to the casting of her recurring nightmares.

…

"DAD! What have you done!?"

When Elsa finally made it back upstairs, she was far too emotionally charged and out-of-breath to even think about knocking on her father's door. She simply barged right in, her chest heaving and her eyes locked in a look of desperation.

In almost slow motion, her father had turned his head to look at her, a scowl stretched across his face. He didn't even try to deny it.

"You know?"

"About Benson? Yes, I know!"

"Well..."

"Please," she moaned, clasping her hands together, "Just let him go! He needs immediate medical attention! He's dying!"

Her father sighed, and he saw him glance to the floor in guilt.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, princess," he whispered as he arose from his desk chair.

"Why not?" she yelled, her heart thudding, "Please… just let him go!"

"Elsa, honey, he tried to kidnap you, for God sakes! What were you thinking? How could you just go along with it… are you insane!? Be logical, dear, how could I not arrest him?"

Elsa had to hold back a gulp. So, he really did know everything about their plan. Well, at least that would save her some explaining time...

"He was trying to help me, dad," Elsa exclaimed, her bottom lip quivering, "He cares about me. He only wanted me to be hap—"

He interrupted her with a loud, sharp laugh. She never knew he could emit such a cold sound. It burned her cheeks in shame.

"Do you really think that he cared at all about you, Elsa?" her father asked, shaking his head as if she were the biggest fool he'd ever met, "He was using you, Elsa. You're the future queen of Arendelle, think about how much you're worth! All he wanted was to hold you for ransom, you mean nothing to him!"

At this, a rush of hot anger swam through Elsa's body. It was a lie, she knew it was. She clenched her fists tight, feeling the prick of ice at her fingertips, but now knowing enough to keep it held inside. At least for the moment.

"You don't understand!" she yelled at him, her eyes flashing, "When I use my powers, its easier for me to control them! Holding them back just doesn't work… Benson was the one who figured that out! You have to help him!"

Elsa stared at him with wide, wild eyes for what could of been no more than five minutes. But still, that was too long. She had absolutely no idea about what was happening below her in that exact, short span of time. She had no idea of the horrors she was a second away from facing.

For a good long time, her father looked like he was about to say something, but right before his tongue could curve to form his first world, a loud knock rang out of the door behind her, and someone entered. It was a guard, and he didn't look very friendly

"It is done," the man said firmly. Elsa's father nodded solemnly, gave a short thanks, and then the man left. The crash of the door closing echoed eerily around the room.

"What does he mean 'it is done?'" Elsa asked, suddenly terrified, "What's done?"

Her father sighed, but she could see the smile on his lips. "You really want to know, Elsa?"

"Yes! Tell me!"

"Are you sure...?"

"YES! Please!"

His eyes glinted with angry glee, and when he finally muttered the next sentence between his lips, the girl's entire world froze. "Benson's execution. Your little friend is dead, Elsa..."

"NO!"

She couldn't keep herself from screaming. Couldn't keep her soul from dying a thousand painful deaths all at the same time. Benson wasn't be dead… he just couldn't be! She absolutely, one-hundred percent, refused to believe it. There were so many things she hadn't had a chance to tell him. So much gratitude she hadn't a chance to share. So many future experiences, so many memories-to-be, that would now never be able to become reality. It was too horrible to be true. Too much of a nightmare. For the longest moment, time had seemed to stop. Everything was over. Not him... anybody but him...

Before she fully understood what she was doing, or even why she was doing it, Elsa was sprinting out of her father's study, running right on down the hallway, with no destination in mind. Her feet, however, must have known exactly where she was going, because before long she found herself right back inside the ballroom. Standing in the exact same spot that she had sat crying only three years before. She just needed to get away from these lies... these horrible, horrible lies...

She needed to get away from the truth.

When she turned around, however, she realized that she had failed. Her father stood right behind her, now. He had followed her all the way here, and currently less than ten feet away, he stared at her, his mouth stretched out in a thin, angry line.

"How dare you," Elsa whispered, the tears cracking her voice, "How dare you do that to him… to me! You killed him… You killed him!"

She hadn't wanted to say it out loud just yet, but it seemed she had no choice. She wanted her father to hear what he had done. She wanted him to _pay._

"And he deserved nothing more, that crook. No one shall brainwash the princess of Arendelle and expect to get away with it unharmed."

Elsa couldn't stop herself from scoffing. "Really? Is that so?" she asked, the anger beginning to flair up again, "And what about _you_, father? What about the way you've brainwashed me my _entire_ life. Made me believe that I was some kind of monster! I know better now! It may have taken a servant to help me realize it, but now I do! _My powers are a blessing, not a curse!"_

Out of the sheer fury now blossoming inside the center of her chest, Elsa began to release her spurts of ice, letting them cling to the wall behind her and climb up like a frozen spider web. It wasn't an accident this time, though. She was doing it on purpose. She wanted to freeze this room. _She wanted to freeze this whole castle._

"ELSA!" her father bellowed, his voice shaking the entire room, "You're powers are dangerous, you cannot deny that, and I've only done what I thought would keep you from turning into the monster you're clearly becoming!"

"I AM NOT A MONSTER!" Elsa shrieked, icicles beginning to hang down from the windows, "If anything, _you are_! You're the one who murdered Benson, you're the one who tortured that woman, you're the one who's kept me locked in a room for _six_ entire years! NOT ME! I may have hurt Anna once, but it was an _accident_. This… the things you've done… were not. And I know I can never forgive you for them!"

"Calm down," her father said, though the anger was evident in his voice, "Just calm down, Elsa, you're causing a scene!"

She practically growled at him, she couldn't help it. "I don't care! I don't care about anything anymore! You've just murdered the only person in the entire _world_ who cares about me… how am I _supposed_ to react?"

Her father grit his teeth, rubbing them together in fury.

"And you don't think your mother and _I_ care about you? Elsa, everything we've ever done is for you! Everything!"

"NO," she shouted, "It's all been for _yourselves!_ You're embarrassed of me, aren't you? You think I'm a _freak_, and a _monster_, and you were just afraid of the entire kingdom finding out about it. You didn't want me to hurt your precious, darling daughter Anna, so you've forced me to stay away from her for years! Have you forgotten that _I'm _your daughter _too? _Of course you have! You don't care about me at all! You just want to control me because you're afraid of me! _You're afraid of me!_"

At this point, Elsa was nearly gasping for breath. These things she was saying… they weren't things she'd ever thought of before. It was as if they'd just been hiding at the back of her conscious for all of those years, too afraid to come out into the open. But now they were out, and Elsa knew that, though slightly dramatic, they held an undeniable shade of truth. One that she simply couldn't ignore for any longer. Suddenly, one of the windows behind her shattered, and a burst of snowy wind entered the room, blowing particles of ice everywhere. Elsa's braid whipped her face, and her dress danced violently around her ankles, but she just didn't care. She stood there, fury flashing through her eyes, her hands balled into fists at her side. For a moment, she was quiet, letting the wind scream for her.

"We were only trying to fix you, Elsa."

"Well stop! BECAUSE I'M NOT BROKEN!"

An infuriated, charged sort of silence broke out in the air, or it would have, had the wind not been howling like a wolf at a full moon. The tension was so thick and palpable around them, they could have chocked on it.

"Everything you said before... those are lies, Elsa, and you know it!" shouted her father suddenly, his face a boiling red, "Your mother and I love you more than anything!"

"THEN PROVE IT!" Her voice was so loud and furious, it scared her, and suddenly the wind reached an abrupt stop. Everything went silent for a moment. All that could be heard was Elsa's quick, worried breathing.

"If you loved me," she whispered, tears of fury and hopelessness spilling down her cheeks, "Then you would let me go. I just… can't be here anymore. I'll go up to the mountains, even without Benson, and I'll make it. I'll use and my powers and learn how to control them and then… then I can be free. Please, daddy, please. You don't understand. Just trust me and let me go. I'm begging you."

She was pleading with him now, despite her pride, the tears flooding from her eyes and her knees all the sudden feeling very weak and wobbly. Her father just stared at her, in silence.

"_Please_," she repeated, "If you really love me, the way that Benson loved me, then you'll let me go."

For a single, beautiful moment, he almost looked as if he would do it. As if he was actually considering her proposal. Before she could think logically, a well of hope sprung up in the center of Elsa's chest. _He was actually going to say yes! _Then, whatever spark that had ignited her father's heart had suddenly gone out, and the ignorance flashed over his face again.

"I-I can't," he responded, "I can't… I won't! Elsa, you're insane!"

The wind started up again. Her fury returned.

"You're being stubborn," she shouted angrily, now glaring at him, "You're being a fool! Any truly great king would understand that if one law doesn't work, it makes no sense to keep on enforcing it. You must try another one! Don't you get it? Flexibility is the most important quality of a rising empire!"

"You know nothing about raising an empire!" stormed her father.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT RAISING A DAUGHTER!"

Her words were loud and angry and terrifying, but at that moment, she meant them. She really, truly meant them. Her father's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed her hate. She didn't care… she hated him, too.

"You are growing up into a wicked woman, Elsa," he finally responded, eyes ablaze, "I am so disappointed in you."

She could have exploded right then and there. In fact, she almost did. The wind was getting wilder, now. Snow dancing in the air, ice crawling across every available surface. And it wasn't even an accident. She was doing it. She wanted to do it.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!" she screeched, "I DON'T CARE! I DON'T CARE! I DON'T—"

The door to the ballroom suddenly swung open, causing Elsa to stop in mid-sentence. Immediately, a little flash of strawberry-blond hair caught her eye... Anna. Anna was here.

Before she even knew what she was doing, before she could even think it through, Elsa stopped. Everything. The wind stopped howling, the ice stopped crawling, her shrill voice stopped screaming. Quick as a field mouse, she wiped her hands on the front of her dress, getting rid of any trace of the frost still coating her fingertips.

"Is everything alright in here? I thought I heard some weird noises."

Anna was peaking her head inside the doorway, her hands placed delicately on the flat-surface of the wood. She must have just woken up, even though it was half an hour until noon, as her hair was a monster of tangles behind her head. She was still dressed in her froggy-green nightgown, and even with her so far away, Elsa could see a bit of dried drool sticking to her chin.

"Yes, Anna, everything is fine," said her father calmly, as if he hadn't just been screaming his lungs out the moment before, "Last night, the snow storm shattered the window. It left ice and snow everywhere. Elsa was just showing it to me, so that it could be cleaned up."

He turned to Elsa, who still stood frozen at her spot against the wall.

"Isn't that right, Elsa, dear?"

For a moment, her mouth felt stuck closed. This was her chance, right here and now, to come clean and tell Anna the truth. She'd let her know just how horrible, how monstrous, their parents were, and then the two of them would escape using Elsa's ice powers. They would run away into the mountains and be stowaways together. It would be perfect. Just the two of them. Her and her sister, the only person _left_ in the world who wouldn't think she was a monster even if she knew about her powers. The plan was too wonderful. For a moment, Elsa couldn't breathe.

But then… she looked into Anna's eyes. Those big, wide, innocent eyes. They were so young and hopeful. They had a life ahead of them, a beautiful, flawless, princess life. How could she take that all away from her? If they ran into the mountains, Elsa knew perfectly well that Anna would always be cold, and starving, and unhappy. The mountains was no place for her. _This_ place was for her. And their parents… oh, their parents. Anna was still at that age where she was sure they were absolutely perfect. She couldn't see their flaws, didn't know the horrible truth. It would be a terrifying blow to the heart if she was pushed to see them the way they truly were. Suddenly, Elsa couldn't do it. She couldn't take away Anna's childhood innocence, couldn't demolish her bright future. She just couldn't. She wasn't _that_ much of a monster.

"Yes, father," she said slowly, "That's right."

Her father gave her an all-knowing, arrogant smile, and Elsa felt a swirl of hatred beginning to build right back up inside her again, but she pushed in back down. Not now. Not ever.

"Elsa was just leaving now to go to her tutor… Samuel? Johnson? Would you two mind escorting her?"

Samuel and Johnson were the two guards whose job it was to bring her to her dungeon. She hadn't even realized they'd been standing there. Slowly, feeling the burning shame of failure, Elsa walked over to them. They each grabbed one of her arms, leading her out of the ballroom.

"Anna, princess, stay here for a moment," her father shouted out just as Anna had tried to follow the three of them, "I need to speak to you!"

Anna nodded and approached him, and Elsa hung down her head in sadness. Of course, he had nothing to say to the girl, he just wanted to make sure she didn't see her older sister being caged up. Because that was what they were going to do to her… and who knew for how long.

Fifteen minutes later, Elsa was being shoved into a familiar, square-shaped dungeon. Her hands were fitted in the shackles very hastily, and though the tightness of them burned her wrists, she did not complain. Nor did she try and get the guards to stay with her, this time. She didn't need them. She hated them both.

When the door had been shut and locked up tight, Elsa looked around. The bed was still there, though this time it was more than just a frame. Someone had finally bothered to put a mattress on it.

_Oh, how considerate of them,_ Elsa thought coldly as she threw herself upon it, noticing how it was little more comfortable than the floor.

Laying her head down to sleep, Elsa was sure of one thing, and one thing only.

Whatever game she and her father had been playing for the past six years, she had lost. It was over. Elsa's future had never looked so bleak, never looked so empty and cold and hopeless.

Her life was over. That was more than clear.

* * *

**Is it bad that I like to torture Elsa so much? Yeah, it probably is... but at least it makes good literature. I don't know why, but I've always enjoyed writing more emotional, depressing scenes (I want to be an author when I'm older, so I write a lot), and I think this chapter definitely counted as 'emotional and depressing.'**

**So, I want to know... what did you guys think? Did you like it? Was it what you expected? Was it as epic as I told you it would be? I hope so, because I practically had an emotional breakdown writing this story, I was so excited. I get a little more into writing than I probably should... XD.**

**It really isn't as well written as I would have liked it to be, but like I said, I was just too excited to wait any longer. In a day or two I'll probably revise it a little to make it smoother and add some much-needed details.**

**Well, I hope you liked! Remember to review! I'll see you all next week!**


	6. The Mirror

**Hey there, everyone! It's update time again!**

**Ok, so as I mentioned before (in chapter four, or something), the events that occurred in fourteen-year-old Elsa's life were sort of like a turning point for her. Every event before had led up to it, and every event after had occurred because of it. That being said, this chapter and the next one are mainly going to focus on how Elsa went from being that powerful, confident girl she was when she confronted her father in his studies, to that reclusive and fearful woman she was at the beginning of the movie.**

**This chapter is shorter than the others (only slightly) because I initially meant it to be only a small part of my next chapter. However, I (being my rambling self) ended up extending it so excessively, that if I even dared to add on everything else I wanted, the chapter would've been so long that you would've probably exploded. So, to save valuable lives, I've decided to split my initial idea into two chapters. Don't worry, though, there's not much of a cliff hanger. The transition is pretty smooth, so I'm sure you won't die waiting.**

**Well... you can start reading now, I guess. Hope you like!**

* * *

Much to her own surprise, Elsa ended up staying in the dungeon for only two more nights before her guards came to release her. Though she hated to see them again-the men who had so willing followed her father's evil words-she couldn't deny that she was not at least a little bit relieved to be getting out of there.

Ever since the day she had been thrown inside her dank little prison-cell, the girl had been surrounded by a deathly quiet unlike anything that had ever existed in her lonesome, isolated bedroom. A silence so deafening, so mind-numbing in all its fury, that all thoughts, all emotions, seemed to cease. It wasn't something Elsa had ever experienced before, nor was it something she ever wanted to experience again. It was, in its own way, both relaxing and horrifying.

She remembered sitting on her block of a bed, staring at the stone wall into nothingness, when she heard the click of the door ring out into the shallow room. She thought it was just one of the guards coming to bring her a meal, again, but when they both trudged in with empty hands, she knew they had come for her.

As one of the guards, the nicer of the two, moved to unlock the cups encompassing her wrists, Elsa stood stalk still, refusing to even acknowledge him. He struggled for a moment, and when he finally managed to pull them off completely, she watched with pleasure as his eyes went wide with horror. She didn't blame him, really. It was quite a gruesome picture. She struggled hard to fight the smile threatening to spill out across her lips.

Both of her hands, now, were raw and red, her skin patchy and bleeding from a thousand little cuts drawn like crayon all over her palms. Elsa would have been surprised, too, had she not been expecting this.

The chains she had worn had been painfully tight to begin with, and for the past forty-eight hours or so, she hadn't had anything but her own twisted memories to entertain herself. So, purely as a way to distract herself, she had spent the entire time wringing and turning her wrists in the cups, feeling the way the metal dug into her gentle skin and cut up her fingers. Somehow, she found herself loving that burn. The physical pain distracted her, if only for a moment, from the emotional stab in her heart, and she was willing to do anything to make that go away.

She knew it was insane to be thinking that way, but at the moment, sanity seemed like a much more painful option.

Now, when the man looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question, Elsa answered with the most obnoxiously vague sentence that she could think of.

"They were tight."

Once the kneeled guard had gotten to his feet and was ready to escort her, Elsa followed the two of them in angry obedience, allowing herself to be led out the door. She stopped and waited as they went to lock it, expecting them to keep walking when they were finished, but her suspicions were proven wrong when the nicer of the guards—his name was apparently Samuel—leaned down to talk to her.

"You're father sends his sincerest regards for what happened some nights ago," Samuel said formally, his large chest heaving forward as he breathed, "He apologizes for the words he said, but claims that he stands by his actions."

Elsa's eyes narrowed in hate.

"And why didn't he just tell me that himself?"

Samuel gave a sheepish smile.

"He requests that you meet him in his studies when you are ready and able to discuss things like adults. Understand? Just between the two of us, I would suggest that you take up his offer. It's not everyday that the king pardons you for behaving like that, you're lucky he didn't demand you be kept in that dungeon for a year."

Elsa nodded slowly, her burning hate dulling down to a stinging anger.

"I understand," she replied, and she did. She understood that her father was a no-good, murdering, _coward _of a man, and that she would not for the life of her ever even _think_ about speaking to him 'like an adult.'

After that, it didn't take long for her to be trudged upstairs and thrown into her room, her guards Johnson and Samuel not even bothering to apologize for the roughness before slamming the door behind them, going back to wherever the hell they came from in the first place. Elsa glared at the back of their heads as they went out, not caring that they didn't notice, just trying to find a way to burn out some of the remaining fumes of her anger.

It took a few seconds after the slamming of the door for her to realize that she was alone. It took only an instant after that for her to break down.

She hadn't cried in the dungeon—she couldn't, really, the seclusion was numbing, and her anger and frustration were all fizzled out—but here, in the place that she and Benson had spent so much of their time together, the desperation flooded into Elsa's chest as quick and painful as if someone had punched her in the gut, and before she even realized they had filled her eyes, she felt the tears carve their way down her face like rivers in a bed of soil. Unlike Anna, whose infrequent bawling could be heard throughout the entire castle as loud, earsplitting wails and sobs, Elsa's crying was silent. The water dripped down her face without her releasing so much as a squeak, and the only sound able to picked up by the ear was the soft, nearly inaudible 'clink' as her now-frozen chunks of sorrow shattered against the hard ground.

Elsa knew she was too old to be sobbing like this. She was turning fifteen in a matter of weeks, now, and she sat here like a sulking two-year-old. Crying was a sign of weakness, her father would say if he had known, and she had to be strong. That was what her parents always said to her, ever since she was just a little girl. She had to be strong. When you were the ice princess of Arendelle, you simply couldn't afford weakness.

She'd never wished more in her life that she could be someone, _anyone_, else.

Knowing she couldn't continue like this forever, Elsa slowly drew her hands to her face, pressing her palms against her eyes and begging them to swallow back up the water. When she was sure they whatever was left was contained, she quickly rubbed her hands down her cheeks, scrubbing off the remaining traces of frost. If there was one thing Elsa had learned after nearly fifteen years of being a princess, it was composure.

Good. The tears had stopped. That was progress, she supposed. The only problem with it was that now she could feel all the pain beginning to build right back up inside her, again. Feel it stirring and spinning and _begging _for a way out. And her fingers tingled. They tingled for… for… ice. For snow. For frost, and winter, and cold. But no. Not now. She was done with that.

Before she could stop herself, her feet had brought her to her balcony. To the place where she and Benson had spent countless hours together, looking out over the land, plans of the future swimming in their heads and childish hope blooming in their hearts. If only they had known… if only they had known…

Elsa felt herself step forward, felt the way her hand rested gently on the railing separating herself from the outside world, but barely registered why. All she knew was that she simply couldn't get enough of the blanket of white that now decorated the ground below her. Of the fat, heavy snowflakes that danced throughout the air. Of the wind that screamed in her ear and kissed her face with its icy blast. She was sure it must have been freezing outside, but she couldn't feel any of it. The cold never bothered her, anyway.

This was one of those huge blizzards that Benson had told her about. She was sure, had he still been alive, that this would've been the night that the two of them left. He would've come into her room in the morning, seen her staring out at the winter wonderland with a cloudy look in her eyes, and before she had the chance to ask him the question that was stirring so rapidly in her mind, he would've answer it.

"We're going tonight," he would say, and Elsa's heart would be pounding with excitement, and the glint in his eyes would be stronger than ever before, and they… and they… would be happy. They would have been so happy. What had happened?

Despite herself, Elsa shivered. Five days ago, merely five short days ago, she and Benson had sat standing on this very balcony, staring at the flurry of snow just beginning to touch the sky. They had walked inside, so much hope bubbling inside them, and when she had asked if they could leave yet, Benson had told her that they'd have plenty of chances. And she had believed him. Oh, why did she believe him? She was such a child, such a fool. But not anymore.

Elsa's lungs heaved in her chest, her eyes shut tight as she struggled to hold in a tear that was once again threatening to spill down her cheeks. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about him, it was only causing herself more pain, but she simply couldn't stop herself. She was too weak.

She shouldn't have brought up Anna. That was where it had all gone wrong. She had already known the answer to the question she had asked him, yet in childlike ignorance she had asked him anyway, and now he was dead. All because of her. It was so stupid... _she_ was stupid.

Elsa barely processed what was happening as, slowly, she began to lift one of her legs over the railing of the balcony. Without hesitation, the other one followed. Now she was sitting on top of it, all her weight pressed down on one measly section of metal. The wind rushed through her hair. The snow crawled between her fingertips. She didn't care.

The crueler of her guards, his name was Johnson, had entered her dungeon two times a day to bring her meals, and whenever he had the chance, he'd told her stories about Benson. Stories about what had happened to the poor servant in those three days when he had went missing. They were horrible stories. That's the only way she could describe them.

Elsa would sit there on the stone ground, her hands bound up and her eyes so bleak and tired, as Johnson looked down on her, an evil smirk stretched across his face and a cruel glint playing in his eye. She didn't like that. Only Benson was allowed to have a glint in his eye, because his glint was beautiful. Johnson's was monstrous.

She'd listened in silence as Johnson's harsh, sharp voice cut through into her mind, telling her about the way Benson had been forced to kneel on the cold, hard ground as his back was slashed over and over again with sharpened knives. About the way his face had been slammed repeatedly into the bars of his prison, until his nose had broken and his lip had split to the point of no recover. About the way his wrists had been pressed against a searing furnace until his skin had been reduced to a crisp, and the smell of burning flesh was thick and nauseating in the air. About the way they had starved him, wafting the smell of freshly-cooked meals towards his cell and setting a tray of juicy boar's meat right out of his reach, so that he could watch in desire as the cockroaches nibbled it away. Each time Johnson talked, Elsa visualized. She saw it all happening as if she had actually been there as a witness. She was not merely listening to his stories... she was _living _them.

During a particularly gruesome tale, where Johnson had described to her how huge, metal chains had been wrapped around Benson's limbs, Elsa had felt a swirl of hatred beginning to swell up in the center of her chest, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. As his mouth spilled upon her such bitter venom, Elsa had willed herself not to listen, to not pay attention to words that would surely bring her nightmares for years to come. She tried so desperately to tune him out, but she knew by now that trying did not necessarily mean succeeding. Somehow, she heard him as loudly and clearly as if she had been hanging on to everything he said. She just wasn't strong enough to ignore him. She had to know.

When Johnson had looked to her, smiling insanely, he had explained how Benson's chains had been pulled tighter and tighter around him, his bones cracking at the pressure, to the point where the boy had been reduced to tears, finally broken, crying and begging them to end the torture. And at that moment-the image of a tearful, broken Benson still swimming horribly throughout her brain-Elsa had looked right back at Johnson, and for the first time in her entire life, she had wanted to _kill_ someone. Not just to kill him, but to torture him and freeze him and _destroy _him to the point of no recover, just like the way he had destroyed Benson. He deserved to be destroyed, that monster, that fool, that coward.

She wanted him to _suffer. _

Back on the railing, Elsa took a deep breath. Her eyes closed, she swallowed the snowy air and tried to drown her lungs in its chilly moisture, hanging onto reality in the only way she knew how. She didn't want to go back to that dark moment. She didn't want to go back ever again.

Slowly, her body failing to refer back to her brain, Elsa let her backside slip from the railing. The heels of her feet were just small enough to squeeze through the bars behind her, and her hands were still griping tightly onto the sturdy structure, and so she stood like that for a few seconds. She was so close to freedom now, she could practically taste it. Now there were no bars standing in her way. It was just her, and the snow, and the wind. This was what freedom was supposed to feel like. This was what she had been fighting for for so, so long. What _he _had been fighting to give her...

_Beheading. _

The word filled her head, so sudden and random and unexpected, that for a moment, Elsa nearly collapsed on the spot. She didn't understand why she had even thought of it... it had come without even a warning, without even a reason. Suddenly, it was just there. Overcoming her with dread. Destroying her with thoughts of _him_.

That was how Benson died. That was his execution.

She remembered how that had been one of the first things that Johnson had told her, and how painful it had been for her to hear it. He had described to her the way the boy had been told the time of his execution hours in advance, direct orders from her father himself, so that he had an excruciating wait for his own demise. The way he had been led into the torture chamber, forced to lay his head on the stony, bloody ground, as a large man with an axe had ascended before him. The way a single tear had slipped down his cheek at that last moment, his eyes closed tightly and his mind a thousand miles away. The way that, when he was asked for his last words, all he had said was "Elsa." No sentence to go along with it, no reason given, just her name. Elsa. That was all he could say.

The girl could barely process the fact that her name was the last word that had ever been on his lips, the last thought that had ever been on his mind, when the axe had swung down onto his fragile little neck. It took three swings, she was told. Three swings and his head had detached completely, shooting across the room, lolling hopelessly on the floor. It, along with the rest of his body, had been incinerated in a furnace. That had been his funeral. A man as great as him, and all he had to leave behind was a pile of smoke and ash.

Suddenly, the freedom Elsa had felt so powerfully before had begun to fade. She felt stifled, contained, trapped in her own body. The bars were still too close to her. She could feel them. They pressed against her back, holding her, pulling her into that nightmare of a castle. Into that nightmare of a life. The bars were both her protection, and her confinement. But she'd had enough of things-_of people_-like that. She didn't want it anymore. She didn't want it at all.

Her better judgment must have been sick that day, for what Elsa did next was not only stupid, but completely insane. She simply unlocked her elbows, which stood firm and stable at her sides, and leaned forward. Leaned into the winter.

Her feet were still planted firmly behind her, and her fingers were still wrapped around the bars quite tightly, but now the majority of her body stood over an a hundred feet drop, nothing but a light pile of snow to cushion the ground below her. The wind was wild, and her dress danced wickedly around her, but when Elsa first looked around, she was not afraid. She was well aware of her height at the moment, and of the fact that she was being held up here by nothing but her own shaky strength, and that at any moment now she could be pushed by the wind to her impending doom, but she simply didn't care enough to pull away. She couldn't care, because the swirl of snow around her was simply too beautiful. The tip of her white, ice-incrusted braid was just visible swinging around in the corner of her vision, and it made her feel as if she was a _part_ of the snow, somehow. She was not Princess Elsa, soon-to-be queen of Arendelle with a monster of a father and a pit of despair in place of her heart, she was the Ice Princess, just another snowflake drifting beautifully through the wind, spreading ice and snow wherever she dared to tread. Not a worry in sight. No pain, no feelings, no anything. Just winter. Eternal winter. And she loved that.

For a moment, she was sure she was flying. Her bloody fingers went numb. Her feet were nonexistent. She could have lived like this forever, just a part of the air around her. She really could've. Very slowly, Elsa felt as a pair of her fingers slipped from the railing. Than another. And a third.

She had dwindled down to two fingers on each hand, now. Her life hanging onto those four, measly sticks of flesh. She could feel the air beneath her. She knew, now more than ever, that if she let those last fleshy fingers slip away, she would plummet to the Earth below. The snow on the ground would grasp her in its icy clutches, pull her into a powdery hug, and she would dissolve into it. Dissolve into the snow and _become_ the snow, and she would never be Princess Elsa again. Always, she would be the Ice Princess. And somehow, she knew, Benson would be down there, too. Ready and willing to pull her to his chest and hold her close and become snow right with her. The two of them, snow, side by side. For all eternity.

Benson had known he was about to be executed. He had known for hours before she had found him, so close to death, huddling in the way back of his cell. And he had wanted her to stay with him, to be with him during his final moments. That was more than clear to her, now. And what had she done to repay him for all he'd done for her? She'd left him. Left him to die all alone, with no one but merciless strangers to say goodbye to. She had pulled away from his grasping hand, turned her cheek to his final words, unable to accept the truth. And he had died alone.

Elsa knew deep in her heart that she would always hold guilt for that. Always hold guilt for not being there for him when he had needed her the most. But if she fell, if she went to greet him right here and now, she knew he would forgive her. He wouldn't care that she had left him. Because they would be together again, and that was all that would matter. That was all that would matter.

Elsa smiled. She let one pair of her fingers slip off. She was hanging on by her index fingers now. They had hooked delicately around the pole, but were struggling against its mere width. They screamed for a break. Her joints ached. She wanted so badly to just let go. To sleep. To sleep…

Elsa's eyes slowly slipped close. She could still feel the wind slapping against her face, the frost clinging to her hair, but now everything was in a peaceful blackness. She was all ready, now. Ready to let go and see Benson and become the snow with him. It was okay. It really would all be okay. She was going to be free, she was really going to be free...

...

...

..

.

And then… Anna.

It was a simple thought, really. So short and sweet and unimportant. Just a name. A reminder of Elsa's childhood before she completely left it behind. But, at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to cross her mind.

A sharp sense of reason, sweet and viscous as honey, began to surge through the girl's veins, overcoming her fantasies and melting away her aching sense of freedom. No, no, no. Not Anna... anybody but Anna. That strawberry blond hair, and those wide, innocent eyes, and that wonderfully childish smile. Why did she have to pop into her mind at the worst of times? Suddenly, Elsa's eyes sprang wide open. She became very aware of the fact that she was seconds away from plummeting to her doom. Of killing herself.

How would Anna feel? Losing a sister like this… not in just any way, but to the cold, dark arms of a welcoming death. That was the worst thing the girl could ever possibly experience. Just two days before, Elsa had given up her own_ freedom_ to save her sister's innocence. But this? Ending her own life was _certainly_ going to terminate Anna's short, lonely childhood, and yet here Elsa stood anyway, ready to be the selfish person she was and do what she thought was best for _herself_. Ready to give up because she wasn't ready to fight any longer.

What kind of person _was_ she? She couldn't do this! She was Anna's older sister, she needed to protect her! And if she needed to be alive to do that, go through all the pain and deal with all the truth so that Anna didn't have to, then so be it. Elsa would gladly do that. Because Anna still had a chance to be happy, and it was Elsa's job to make sure the girl didn't fall to the same tragedy that she herself did. It was her sisterly duty. There was no arguing against that.

She had to put the living before the dead. That was always a priority.

Very slowly, her muscles straining and her hands on fire, Elsa leaned backwards. She hooked her fingers right back against the bars, and with all the strength she could muster, pulled herself to sit on top of the railing. When she finally turned her body so that her feet once again rested comfortably on the balcony, Elsa's heart was thudding painfully in her chest. Her eyes were straining just to stay open, and she felt so lightheaded and dizzy that the world spun with every step she took. Only one thought propelled her forward. It was not a happy thought, but a determined one.

_She would not die today. For Anna, she would live._

In what felt like hours, though could've only been a few minutes, Elsa managed to shuffle inside and plop herself right down on top of her bed, feeling the cushiony softness overcome her. Despite her own logic, the image of Benson's face crossed her mind, and rather than push it away, she let herself dissolve into it. That shining, hopeful spark in his eyes. That wash of dark hair that always covered his forehead. That plain, genuine handsomeness of his face. She watched, in emptiness, as it all went away. The spark was replaced by hopelessness. His hair became matted and drenched in blood. His face became twisted and gruesome, painted in black and blue. Benson. Her father had killed him. Her father was a monster.

But she was determined not to be the same.

For a moment—a wonderful, exhilarating moment where her heart seemed to regain the spark that it had lost—a childish plan began to form inside Elsa's head. Samuel, her other guard, seemed to her to be a genuinely nice person. She remembered the way, so many years ago, he had looked to her with such sympathy when she had begged him to stay in the dungeon with her. She could recall quite clearly the look of concern on his face when he had observed her bloody wrists, and the kindness in his voice as he talked to her about her father. He seemed like the type of person who would feel guilt about the things Elsa's father had done to her. Who would, deep down, know that what he did was simply not right. Elsa was a reclusive, wallowing teenage girl, and though she knew she could be rather cold at times, she was also sure that she could summon some princess-like charm if she really needed to. She could, somehow, win Samuel over. Convince him to love her just like Benson loved her, and get him to not only help her escape, but _want_ to go and live with her. She could actually do it, she knew she could! Her life wasn't over yet!

But of course, that thought only lasted a split second, and in a moment, Elsa was back to sulking under the covers. She couldn't do that. Her first plan had led to the death of the only person in the entire world who she could open up to, and she was most definitely not going to try it again. She couldn't be responsible for the death of yet another person she loved… she just couldn't. It would destroy her. As if she hadn't been destroyed enough already.

Oh, what was she thinking? She wasn't going to escape again, those days were over. Whatever was left of her pitiful childhood had long since seeped away. She was going to spend the rest of her life hidden away in the confines of this castle. That was more than clear. It was time for her to just give up.

Of course, Benson wouldn't have wanted that. He'd have wanted her to go out there and keep fighting, keep pushing her way to freedom. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. Wherever he was now, heaven or hell or just floating around in nothingness, he would have to understand. She just couldn't do this anymore. She was tired of fighting. Tired of trying to feel the beautiful things, trying to live life the way it was meant to be lived, only to end up being hurt. She was done. Submission was her new name. From here on out, she was going to be the good girl. The quiet girl, the nice girl, the obedient girl. Anything to keep this pain away. Anything.

_Sorry, Benson, _Elsa thought to herself, squinting her eyes closed in concentration, _I just can't do this anymore. Please understand. We tried, and we failed, and its time to move on. We were childish, and now its time to be adults. Or, at least, for ME to be an adult. You… just enjoy yourself, up there. Please, you deserve it. _

She figured, if he really was living it up in heaven, he was probably worrying his heart out for her. That was just the kind of guy he was. He cared about her. Elsa had always, secretly, imagined that when the two of them went out to live in the mountains together, they would eventually fall in love. At that time, the age difference between them had turned their relationship into a more brother/sister sort of thing, but Elsa was quite aware that the older two people got, the less age difference seemed to matter. The two of them were only five years apart, anyway, and even Elsa's own parents had a greater difference than that. So, really, it all made sense to her. Elsa knew that _eventually_ she'd have to find someone and get married and do all that stuff that married people do, it was inevitable, and there was no reason in her mind why that couldn't be with Benson. It saved her a lot of time and effort trying to open up to yet _another_ person. Of course, the idea of all that strange 'physical stuff' that relationships require worried her, mostly because of her powers, but she'd always assumed that Benson would figure it out somehow. He was a smart guy. He'd find a way, he'd always find a way.

Well, Elsa was certain now that Benson would never end up being 'the love of her life,' and she felt foolish for ever believing so. For ever believing that something as silly as 'true love' even existed. She would be queen one day, and as expected of her, would arrange a marriage for herself with whichever suitor offered the largest benefit to her kingdom. That was her only option. There would be not 'true love,' no finding a man who understood her and loved her for who she was inside. That stuff just wasn't logical. To _think_ she had ever thought about marrying a servant… it was insane.

She'd heard more than one time that princesses were supposed to live out fairytale lives, but now, as she sat on her bed replaying her gruesome past and drawing the plans for her bleak future, she was absolutely, one-hundred-percent positive that she was living proof that not all did. She was the exception. She always had been.

…

When Elsa finally managed to scrape herself from her bed, the dizziness subsiding enough so that it was not such a choir to stand, the first thing she did was stumble over to the mirror in the corner of her room. She figured, really, the first step to trying to be a good little princess was to, at least, look the part. Since she'd spent the last two days of her life rotting away in a dungeon, she figured she'd have a lot of work to do. Boy, was she right.

After walking far enough to catch a glimpse of her reflection, Elsa groaned. She looked absolutely horrid, at the moment. Enough so that even looking at herself made her cringe. The stress of the last few days had certainly gotten to her. Though, in all fairness, who could blame her?

Her hair, for one thing, was in complete shambles. Her braid was barely recognizable anymore, now just a matted ball of white attached to the back of her head, and was still flecked with tiny ice crystals. Individual pieces of hair flew off in every which direction, making the girl looked fuzzy and disheveled. She'd certainly have to do something about that.

Very carefully, Elsa dug her fingers into the nest on her head, not stopping until she could feel her hair tie stuck between her fingers. It took her forever to finally manage to unweave it from the rest of her head, but when she did, her hair flopped down onto her back almost immediately. Long and thick and tangled. Elsa gawked at it for a moment. She could hardly remember the last time she'd seen her hair down like this, before. She never fixed her braid in front of a mirror, and her mother had always told her that it was wild and unladylike for a girl to wear her hair freely. For a moment, Elsa was tempted to leave it as it was, but then she remembered her new goal, and quickly pushed her dream aside. Grabbing a brush from her bedside table, Elsa took a deep breath. This would hurt… she just knew it.

It took Elsa a good fifteen minutes to finish brushing out her numerous stubborn tangles, but by the time her scalp had gone numb from being yanked in every which direction, her hair was as a cool and silky as it had always been. In satisfaction, the girl ran her hand through it, feeling the way it flowed through her fingers like water. This would be the last time she would ever see it down like this, she was sure of it.

Very swiftly, Elsa braided her white river as neatly and delicately as she could. When she was done, however, she looked at it with dissatisfaction. It was too childish looking, too free. Just not queen-like enough. After a moments thought, Elsa took her braid and twisted it into an intricate knot, pinning it up onto the top of her hair. Only then, did she allow herself a weak smile. Perfect. It was very tight and formal-looking, her parents were sure to love it.

Now that her hair was nice and clean, Elsa turned her attention back to the mirror. The next, most obvious problem was her dress. After sitting in that dungeon for so long, it had picked up a good number of smudges and stains, coated in many places with ash and dust. In still other sections, however, spots of ice and snow stuck to the fabric, there from just moments ago when she had stood on the balcony. Of course, just by wearing these strips of clothe, she looked like a complete slob. That wouldn't do, either.

Careful not to mess up her perfected hairdo, Elsa quickly slipped off her casual gown, standing in her room in just her undergarments. She rummaged through her closest until she found the longest, most modest dress she owned. It was very formal-looking, not even daring to show the skin on her ankles or the whiteness of her neck. It was exactly what she was looking for. Gingerly, Elsa pulled it on. It was tight in all the wrong places, and far too uncomfortable to wear on a day-to-day basis, but when Elsa looked in the mirror, she looked like a real queen. So she'd just have to learn to deal with it, then. These were the types of dresses she'd be wearing from now on.

Looking back at the mirror, the deepest part of her beginning to hate that stupid, reflexive glass, Elsa took in the last detail of herself that needed changing. Her eyes. After crying for so many hours, they were puffy and red, sticking out horribly against her pale skin. From lack of sleep and a huge overdose of nightmares, they were also etched in very unattractive black circles. At that exact moment, she looked both miserable, and exhausted. Queens weren't supposed to be miserable and exhausted. That had to change.

It didn't occur to her until five minutes later to use makeup to cover up her imperfections. Elsa didn't normally wear makeup… in fact, she never had. She had always thought that it was a pointless habit to get into. It took too long to apply, and once you started, everyone expected you to keep wearing it every day for the rest of your life, or else you became 'ugly' or something. When she was really little, before she had gotten confined to a life indoors, Elsa had promised herself never to wear makeup when she grew older. She'd made Anna promise, too. She'd told her that, as princesses, it was their duty to show people that girls could be pretty without it.

If only she had known back then what she knew now. Then Elsa would have never made such a stupid promise.

Reaching into her drawer, the girl pulled out a box of powders that her mother had kept insisting that she apply. Elsa wasn't sure exactly what they were made of, maybe some sort of crushed minerals or shells, but at that moment she really didn't care. She just pulled out the whitest powder she could find, the one she knew would blend in the best with her skin, and pressed it to the shadows under her eyes, letting it hide her exhaustion. Cover her pain. She couldn't do much about the puffiness, but to distract from it she wore a bit of blue eye-shadow on her eyelids. When she was finished, she looked it all over checking for mistakes. For a moment, she was completely ashamed of herself. The person she saw was not the person she was inside. For a moment, she wanted to scream, but she pushed the feelings down.

This was the new her, and she would just have to learn to live with it.

When she was done, she looked herself over in the mirror. She did, indeed, look about a thousand times better than before. She also felt a thousand times worse. The only thing even the slightest bit unsettling, she realized, was the bloodiness of her hands. Her skin was still cracked and patchy, damaged from her fit of hysterics in the dungeon. For a moment, Elsa stared at it. And then, she simply fixed it.

It was almost disturbing how quickly she repaired the wounds. One minute they were raw and bleeding. The next, thin lines of icy blue began to weave themselves throughout her hands, almost like invisible stitches, closing up her cuts and rejuvenating her damaged skin. The ice almost seemed to dissolve on the spot, and in its place it left a layer of perfectly new skin. It was, admirably, paler than usual, and it would probably scar, but at that moment, it was better than nothing. Within a minute, everything was as good as new. Elsa smiled to herself. She hadn't known she could do anything like that… but that would be the last time she would ever use her powers. Now, she was sure of it.

Picking up the gloves that lay uselessly on her bedside table, Elsa pulled them over her fingers. For the past year, she had worn them rarely, if at all, and it felt strange for her hands to be confined after so long. But, deep down, she'd always known she'd end up having to put them back on again. That was just the way her life worked. She was either caged up, or about to be. There was no freedom for a girl like her.

Now, the mere image of a soon-to-be-queen, Elsa hesitantly opened the door to her room and strode out, staring blankly at her feet. She would head over to her father's studies, now. Tell him that he was right, and she was wrong, and apologize for causing such a scene before. He would forgive her, of course, hand her a few of his own measly apologies, and then he would love her again, and she would love him too, and all would be right with the world. Everything would be back to the way things were supposed to be. Nobody would die because of her ever again. She was positive.

Walking slowly through the hallways, her heels clicking against the wooden ground, Elsa was willing and ready to accept whatever fate held in store for her. And she would do it just like the good girl she was.

She would do it the way her father wanted, because like she'd always thought as a little girl, her father was always right. Always.

* * *

**Well... what did you think? This chapter wasn't exactly as eventful as the others, and I guess that's partially because I spent so much time describing the things that Elsa was changing about her appearance. But, hear me out, I did that for a good reason. I just wanted to emphasize how much change was occurring right at that moment. In this chapter, Elsa's pretty much given up on her dreams of a free life, and decides to lose whoever she is inside to live by the society's, and her father's, expectation of her. That's why I did the whole thing with the makeup, to show how Elsa's pretty much covering herself up right now, and hiding who she is inside. You know, a lot of symbolism and stuff like that, I guess. Just thought I'd explain that to make it clear XD. **

**Don't forgot to review (you know I live for them)! I hope you liked it! I'll update ASAP! **


	7. The Books

**Hi guys! It's update time again!**

**Okay, so this chapter really isn't as well-put together as my others, and that's partially because this is the first chapter where I didn't really have a concrete idea of what I wanted to do. I just had several things I wanted to include, and I sort of stitched them all together into one chapter. The transition isn't as smooth as I would've liked, but I hope you forgive me for that and enjoy anyway :).**

**Btw, I've noticed that I've started getting a little _too_ negative about Elsa's father. I mean, we all know how horrible he is, but my goal when I started this was to show both the positive and negative sides of him, and I've sort of just skipped over the positive. So, in this chappie, I'm going just a little more in depth about _why_ Elsa's father is such a jerkaholic. Because, in my mind, he really does love Elsa (or at least it started out that way) he just sucks at showing it. Don't worry, though. I don't make him an angel or anything, he still looks like a pretty big jerk at the end of this chapter, I just tried to put him into a little more perspective. In my mind, there's no such thing as a 'true' bad guy.**

**Oh, this chapter takes place around three years or so after Elsa meet Benson (if you haven't noticed yet, I've been doing a lot of three year intervals), so Elsa is now 17. **

**Ok, enough rambling. You can read now!**

* * *

The sound of the whoosh of the paper, breaking out into the air as her fingers turned the gritty pages of the book, had never failed to calm now-seventeen-year-old Elsa's wild nerve. It didn't matter what book it was, really. Nor what page, or even what genre. All that mattered was that she was reading, her mind lost in a swirl of carefully placed, carefully calculated words, kept busy enough so that it did not have time to dwell on the more 'unpleasant' matters of her life.

As she sat politely in a chair, her posture firm and flawless, the novel she currently read was entitled "The History and Analysis of Computational Mathematics," and it covered all sorts of mathematical theories, reviewing how to deal with numbers that were far too large, and equations that were far too complex, for human comprehension. Though vastly educational, it was, by far, the most boring thing the girl had ever laid eyes on.

She'd finished it a total of sixteen times.

Though she knew this piece of literature practically by heart now, Elsa was still quite determined to get to the end, and she held on to it as if it were her only lifeline. This book was, admittedly, a special one to her. It was so incredibly boring, so mind-numbingly bland, that she found herself pulling it out during only the darkest of times. When she managed to get herself sucked into its words—which, admittedly, could prove difficult—almost nothing could pull her out again, and it was as if a giant wall was built around her heart and mind, keeping out any personal thoughts and feelings. In Elsa's opinion, she could never have enough walls. It was wonderful. This was her favorite book.

It was a few years back, Elsa remembered, when this whole 'reading craze' of hers had started, and though it may have been considered obsessive by some, she didn't regret it for a second. Reading all the time may have been boring and time-consuming, but really, that was the whole point.

Looking up from her pages for a split second, having just finished the chapter labeled 'How Not to Panic When Faced with an Unsolvable Equation,' Elsa caught a glimpse of an excessively tall pile of novels resting neatly on the floor near the doorway. There were about ten or so stacked on top of each other, a result of three days worth of reading, and though she knew many others would look upon it with admiration, to her, it was quite pitiful. Usually she could finish more than double that amount in that short span of time. What was with her these days?

Well, really, the lacking wasn't all her fault. She'd been having this very uneasy feeling lately, a sort of sinking dread in the very pit of her stomach, and she kept finding herself distracted or staring off into space when she knew she ought to be learning. It was strange. Usually, the worse she felt, the more she read. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

Shaking her head to alleviate her thoughts, Elsa pushed her eyes back to the page, intent on getting back in focus. Somehow, however, a mere minute later she found them drawn right back to that pile of books. It was almost as if they were magnetic, or something, and she didn't know why. Very reluctantly, wanting to at least read _something_, Elsa found herself going over the titles of all the novels she could see, most of their names made quite visible through the large, blocky letters decorating their spines.

'Ancient Chinese Philosophies,' 'Why the Earth is Round,' 'Mastering Economics: Volume 32,' 'Abstract Geometric Proofs,' 'The Proper Way to Rule an Empire,' and the 'Latin to Spanish' dictionary were just a few of the ones she could see, the rest having been facing in the opposite direction. As she counted her progress for what could have been the hundredth time, Elsa smiled bitterly to herself, feeling a burning pit of shame beginning to singe the inner lining of her stomach. Look at how little she had accomplished these past few days! She needed to get a move on! Father would be so disappointed...

Quickly, Elsa shoved her nose right back into her book, attempting to absorb a very complicated, very detailed graph. She needed to get focused. She most certainly knew what happened if she ever allowed herself to _think_.

Though the girl must have read hundreds of books since her fifteenth birthday, not one of them had been fictional. Of course, she had tried those types, but they did not accomplish what she had been looking for, and her avoidance of them had begun quickly after she had realized this. When she read and processed the stories they held—those beautiful, emotional, heart-capturing stories—they filled her with all sorts of thoughts and feelings, feelings that reminded her of all the emotions she'd felt before, and those were exactly the sorts of things that she read specifically to avoid. As she had discovered years ago, when she read—the more boring the book, the better—her pain was put at a temporary standstill. With her mind kept so busy, she was unable to dwell on memories of the past, all her attention focused on reading those tiny, complicated words spewed like vomit across those yellowing pages. So, she read as much and as often as she could, devouring books as if they were only food and life-source. Reading was her distraction, and boy, did she need a distraction at this time of her life...

She remembered quite clearly the moment it had all started. The moment she had finally discovered something that could actually save her from the endless pit of hopelessness and despair that her mind was slowly and undeniably becoming. Or, at least, bide her some time.

It was three days after her initial, self-given makeover, and at that time in the afternoon, Elsa had sat on her bed staring lifelessly at the wall, her expression blank and seemingly indifferent with life. Only after she had vowed to stop using them had she begun to truly understood just how little she could do without her powers, and obviously, it was at that time in her life that she had had to deal with the blunt of that realization.

Of course, she knew she had many skills—she was a graceful dancer, a gifted singer, and according to her tutor, could play the piano like a goddess—but those were all things that she was required to learn as a princess. She held little interest for using her talents for the pure joy of it. In fact, it seemed she held little interest for anything these days. But, still, she had to do something. Her room was so small and confined and empty… how on Earth had she passed the time before she met Benson?

In annoyance, Elsa glanced out of her window on the other side of the room. The sun was high in the sky, marking noon, and the girl recalled bitterly that her tutor had already spent her required time in the morning, so she wouldn't have anything else to do for the rest of the day. Considering Elsa's general intelligence, and the vast amount of queen-like skills she possessed to begin with, her father had already commanded that she did not need more than three hours or so of education a day. That way, most of the tutor's time could be spent dealing with a rather unruly and distractible Anna. At the age of nearly twelve, the girl was reaching a rather rebellious stage of her life—Elsa could most definitely relate to that—and had simply gone all out to cause wreak and havoc in the castle. Though Elsa had nodded politely to her father when he had told her this, agreeing that it was smart to send the tutor to put Anna back in line, the girl couldn't help but, deep down, feel a pool of happiness welling up inside her heart at the news. Anna was just being a normal teenage girl… and somehow, that had made her feel more joy than she could imagine.

Still, though, less tutoring time did have its drawbacks, and a nearly-fifteen-year-old-Elsa had found herself getting lonelier and lonelier every second. She couldn't very well rely on her newest personal servant for company, as the maid who replaced Benson was a woman named Gretchen, and she was the very person who had betrayed him to the king in the first place, leading to his inevitable death. In fact, Elsa was so determined _not_ to spend time with Gretchen that she had went out of her way to make sure that she didn't need her. At night, she had trained herself to stay completely still in sleep, even during nightmares, so that her gloves didn't slip from her fingers. It was an uncomfortable experience, she had to admit, but at least her room never froze over anymore.

Elsa had also given orders that the woman, instead of knocking and bringing them to her directly, leave trays of food right outside her doorway, to be retrieved when the coast was clear. This way, Elsa never saw her face, and she never saw Elsa's. It was a fair solution, but now, for eighteen hours a day, the girl lived in complete isolation. She had to admit, it wasn't the ideal situation, but she couldn't say that it was something she wouldn't get used to over time. It was a lonely existence, but she found that at least when she was alone, she couldn't be hurt. And, more importantly, she couldn't hurt anybody else.

She wasn't quite sure when or why it had happened, but suddenly, as the young girl had sat there, drowning in her silence, a memory had come back to her. It was a short memory, really, but quite a useful one.

When Elsa had been twelve—after the incident with the tortured woman, but before she'd ever met Benson—she had come across a series of childishly-wonderful fantasy novels, and had spent a great deal of her free-time reading them. She couldn't quite recall what they had been about, nor did she remember them as being especially good quality, but they had served as a good time-waster then… Elsa couldn't see why they wouldn't do the same now. Of course, the girl had not yet been aware of her new inability to read fiction stories, but at that moment, it really didn't matter. In a mere ten minutes, she had already begun trudging downstairs to the castle library, intent on finding that old favorite series of hers to reread. She had no idea, at the time, that she was about to find much, much more.

When she had first stepped into that library, Elsa had had to stifle a gasp. The room was simply _huge_, even bigger than the enormous ballroom of theirs, and thousands upon thousands of books lined the dusty, wooden shelves. Though the phase was cheesy and vastly overused, Elsa couldn't help but think of it as an entire _world_ for her to explore. Looking around, eyes wide and alert, she had wondered silently to herself. _Had the library always been this big?_ Somehow, she couldn't recall. All she could feel, all she was even aware of, was the brimming excitement that had suddenly and inexplicable begun to take ahold of her pounding heart. This, she had to admit, was going to be fun.

Half an hour later, Elsa had finally left the library, struggling to carry a stack of books taller than her own head. She had not managed to find that old book series of hers—there were far too many for her to sort through, it would have been a miracle had she actually attained them—but she couldn't say that she was disappointed. The books she had picked out were all the heaviest, most-complicated one's she could find. If she couldn't have a tutor, she decided, she would just have to teach herself.

Stumbling forward, most of her vision obscured by the tower in front of her face, Elsa hadn't even noticed as the little redheaded child (or strawberry blond, she was never quite sure what color that girl's hair was) skipped towards her, a devious and excited grin stretched across her face.

"Woah, Elsa!" she heard a voice say, unmistakably her sister, "That's a whole lot of books you've got there! And they're all so big... practically bricks! Need any help?"

Sudden panic rushing through her at the mere thought, Elsa had shaken her head. Upon realizing that Anna could not see her, however, she was forced to speak up.

"No, no. I'm fine, Anna, thank you. I got it."

She had hoped that the girl would leave it at that, but of course, that only showed how little she knew about her little sister.

"No you're not," Anna had said simply, her voice brimming with excitement as her braids swung freely from side to side, "Look at you, you're holding like ten books! You can't bring those all up the stairs by yourself! Let me help!"

"No, Anna, really. I'm fine. Just—"

"Let me help!" Anna said again, louder and more insistent this time, "Let me help! C'mon, just let me help! You know I can!"

"Anna," Elsa had repeated, annoyance creeping into her voice, "Please, I don't—"

Her denial was futile, her words too late. Within a millisecond, Anna had already swept forward and grabbed the top five books on the pile, grunting at the weight.

"Oof… geez. These really are like bricks."

Elsa had narrowed her eyes in disapproval, and for a moment she felt like snatching them back, but then her anger dissipated, and she decided to just let it slide this time. There wasn't much harm one walk to her room could cause, and besides, the books really _were_ heavy. Maybe she actually did need the help.

Slowly, in silence, the two girls began walking, and together they swerved and turned through the many twisting passageways of the castle. Or, at least, Elsa _wished _it had been in silence. Anna, however, didn't really seemed to want that.

The bounding, joy-filled, twelve-year-old girl had started talking as soon as they had begun their little walk, and at the speed at which her lips flapped, it was as if she thought she'd never get the chance again. Well, Elsa figured, maybe she had a point. Elsa was out of her room like this practically once in a lifetime, and if Anna wanted to take advantage of this awkward sister-bonding situation, she guessed she didn't really have a right to stop her.

"Mom ordered the tutor to give me dancing lessons, did you know that?" Anna had babbled happily, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement, "I had my first lesson an hour ago. I fell over trying to do a pirouette and landed on the tutor's leg… I think I broke it! Mom says no more dancing lessons for me."

At this, the girl giggled happily, as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world, and Elsa could barely hold back the smile threatening to spill out across her features. It was, admittedly, a cute story. For a split second, as she stared down lovingly at her little sister, all Elsa had wanted to do was laugh and laugh and laugh like a crazy person. Laugh until her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed onto the ground, rolling around and around as her lungs screamed for air. Not that Anna's story was _that_ funny, but still. Laughing was fun. She'd always wanted to do it with Anna, even just for a little bit... but no, she couldn't, that was ridiculous. She suddenly remembered her new, improved personality, and knew that laughing hysterically was not something that _Queen_ Elsa would ever even consider. Regaining her composure, Elsa responded as formally as she could muster.

"I see."

Noticing her lack of interest, Anna's smile slowly faltered. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and Elsa felt a twinge of guilt tugging at her heartstrings. She pushed it back, though. It was all for the better, she knew it was.

"I bet you're a great dancer, Elsa," the girl began slowly, looking at her with wide, serious eyes, "You're so elegant and graceful and everything, that's what Mom says. Sometimes I like to press my ear against the door when you play the piano. You're really good at it, you know that? I can't play for my life."

Elsa looked guiltily down at her shoes. Her words had been simple, but Elsa still couldn't believe them. Was this _really_ how Anna saw her? This perfect, flawless, _statue_ of an older sister? Couldn't she see just how broken Elsa was? Just how weak and fearful and torn apart? No… of course not. Elsa had spent half her life making sure nobody could. Now, suddenly, she wished she were as bad at hiding her feelings as Anna had always been.

"I'm sure you just need a little practice," Elsa mumbled, refusing to meet the girl's eyes. Her words were empty, of course. She'd heard Anna trying to play the flute before and… well… let's just say it wasn't the _prettiest_ song she'd ever heard.

"Besides," she added quickly, another thought entering her mind, "You're good at other things." That, at least, was true. Anna was a beautiful singer, and according to the castle staff, quite a fast runner. And, if Elsa remembered correctly, the girl had been quite fearless when she was younger. Elsa would've given anything to be fearless, she really would've.

At this, Anna gave her a funny, half-smile. "Really? You think?"

Elsa nodded slowly, and Anna beamed.

For the rest of the walk, Elsa remained silent, listening as Anna went on and on about how tight Mom and Dad were becoming about 'manners' and 'grace' and a bunch of other stupid things like that. Within five minutes, the speech not even close to approaching a finish, the two had reached the staircase leading up to Elsa's room. Carefully, they ascended it, Anna's mouth still bumbling on.

"Oh, and did I tell you that I've been asking Mom and Dad for a cat for Christmas? They weren't so sure, at first, but I've been leaving them semi-threatening notes in secret places around the house, and I think they're finally starting to come around to— AHHHHH!"

Suddenly, near the very top of the immense staircase, Anna's foot caught on the hem on her dress, and she wasted no time stumbling and falling forward, her chin catching the edge of a stair as the books she was holding thudding down below. As they slipped from her fingers, they practically danced down the staircase, creating loud, booming sounds whenever they dared bang to the ground... so loud that Elsa would have been surprised had the whole kingdom not heard the trouble. As they thundered down, the girls stared at the flying literature in shock, not daring to move a muscle. Finally, when they all lay on the floor, motionless and finished with their escape, Elsa and Anna turned to each other, their eyes wide and their mouths agape. Had they not been so stunned, it would have been a funny sight.

"Oh my gosh... wow. Sorry Elsa! I'm so sorry! I'll go pick those up, I promise!"

Anna's face was flushed pink again, this time with embarrassment, and Elsa could tell with the quivering of her lips that she was extremely ashamed. She'd probably been imagining this 'sisterly bonding time' for as long as Elsa had been hiding in her room, and now she thought she had ruined it. Quickly, Anna averted her eyes, biting her lip to keep herself from crying. It was such a pitiful, horrible sight. A girl as great at her should never be ashamed. Suddenly, Elsa felt something inside of her break in two. It was probably her composure, for what she said next was something she knew her father would never approve of.

"I don't know why they make our dresses so long if they don't want us to trip on them," spoke Elsa, casually shrugging her shoulders, "I can't tell you how many times I've nearly died trying to walk down these stairs."

Anna's response had been instantaneous. As she pulled herself up from the step, her expression went from shame, to shock, to complete excitement.

"Really?!" the girl nearly shouted, her eyes wide.

Elsa nodded slowly. "When I was really little, Mom and Dad threw a party in the ballroom. When I was dancing, I tripped on my dress and knocked over a giant bowl of pudding on the desert table. It splattered over everything. Everyone was furious at me."

Anna gawked at her, her eyes as bright as stars. "No way!"

"Yep," said Elsa, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of excitement and humor swelling through her heart, "You were there, too, I think. You were one, and you crawled all over the place licking the floor to try and clean up the pudding. Dad eventually made me pick you up and leave because we were embarrassing him."

At this, Anna literally burst out laughing. With her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, the beautiful sound of her voice rang out into the air like a melody, and Elsa remembered smiling to herself, wondering—not for the first time—how someone as warm as Anna could be related to someone as cold as herself.

Finally, after Anna had calmed down enough not to go tumbling down with the rest of the things she had dropped, she went to retrieve the library books from where they sat lifelessly on the floor. Elsa stood near the top of the steps, watching her stumbling as she struggled to collect the stories, numerous stray hairs flying out of her double braids as she ran. Anna was just so… so... imperfect. So wonderfully, beautifully imperfect. She really was worth everything Elsa had done for her. She really was.

Soon, far too soon, the two girls reached Elsa's bedroom. Opening the door with one quick flick of the wrist, Elsa stepped inside to set her books on her desk and then came back out again to grab the one's that Anna held. When she did, however, she noticed that something had changed. The girl, rather than being in her usual cheery mood, seemed to be on edge. Not in an upset sort of way, just nervously. She was tottering on her heels, biting her lip, looking very anxious and excited both at the same time. Just when Elsa thanked her and was about to close the door, Anna blurted out what she must have wanted so badly to say.

"Hey… um… Elsa? It snowed last night, did you know that? I was planning on going out later, anyway, and I was just wondering… do you want to build a snowman?"

Elsa's eyes widened. For a second, the prospect swam innocent and beautiful through her mind. Then reality hit, and she looked down sadly at her shoes.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I can't. I'm busy."

Anna didn't look disheveled. She had obviously expected this, but she wasn't giving up that easily. "Why not?" she asked innocently, tying her hands up in a knot and trying to look cute, "Just for a little while. Please?"

Elsa shook her head. "I'm busy…"

"Busy doing what? Reading?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as she dropped the act of cuteness that must have worked for her all the time, "Come on, those books will still be here when we get back. Let's go out and play! I'm so boooorrreeedddd!"

Elsa inwardly groaned to herself, a sprout of annoyance beginning to fill up her veins. Didn't Anna understand by now? She must've said no about a thousand times already, so why hadn't the girl gotten the point yet? Whatever Anna wanted, no matter what it was, Elsa just _couldn't_ do it. She wished so desperately that she could, she really did, but she couldn't, and the girl's constant begging was only making the pain she felt a thousand times worse. Why was she so obnoxiously persistent?

"Anna, I'm sorry, but—"

"Come on! Let's build a snowman!"

"I really can't, I'm—"

"Yes you can!"

"No, Anna, I can't-"

"But, it'll be fun! It snowed so much last night, and I haven't seen you in forever, and we could maybe even have a snowball fight, if you wanted. It's so lonely in this stupid castle! We could come back in for some hot chocolate afterwards and I could teach you how to play this game I invented and we could even make a pillow fort, and then—"

"I said NO, Anna!"

Anna froze. Elsa's words had been louder and stronger than she had intended, had come out so harsh and hateful and monstrous, that in an instant she was sure that all she had managed to do was hurt the only person left on the Earth who still loved her. Who she, herself, still loved. For the first time in forever, Anna seemed not to have anything to say.

"Sorry," mumbled Elsa quietly, and she quickly stepped backwards inside her room, slamming the door behind her.

At that, Elsa had thought it was over. Breathing deeply, she had allowed herself to slide down her door, the shame threatening to spill down her pale cheeks. She hadn't realized that at that exact moment, Anna's hurt had been replaced with anger. She hadn't realized it until the girl had shouted back. She'd never heard Anna shout before, never even heard her being angry. The result was heartbreaking.

"Why do you _hate _me?!" she had yelled, her voice muffled from the wooden barrier between them, "What did I ever do _wrong?!" _

Elsa leaned against the door in silence as she heard the sound of feet stamping against a hard ground, evidence that Anna was now stomping away, releasing her breaths in little puffs of fury. Elsa stayed completely still for long, long after she had left. She could barely think, barely breathe, barely do anything. Oh, Anna…

After everything Elsa had done for her, after how much love she felt for the girl, Anna still thought that she hated her. And how could Elsa blame her? She was shutting her sister out, refusing even the smallest of her invitations. If it had been in reverse, she surely would've thought the same.

Suddenly, everything Elsa had ever done just seemed so pointless. So meaningless and stupid and empty. Of all the ways she had tried, of all the sacrifices she had made, nobody on Earth would ever know about any of them. Sure, she could think to herself that she was doing something for the greater good—for Anna's good—but in the end, when the years had past and she herself ended up meeting a welcoming death, it would all be for nothing. Nobody would ever know any of what she went through. Nobody would ever know how hard she tried to be good. In the end, if she ever broke, her entire kingdom would all think of her as a monster. It wouldn't matter how many horrible things she had had to deal with in her past, of how she had been pushed to the breaking point, of how it really wasn't her fault at all. Nobody would know, and nobody would care. All that would matter would be the things that people would see. She knew that if she ever let her powers go, they would all think..._would all know..._just how much of a monster she really was. There was no way around it.

So, she'd just have to make sure they never found out.

Bubbling from within her, Elsa could still feel the pain and the emotion rising up inside her chest. Anna thought she hated her… and the girl would never know otherwise. She'd spend the rest of her life thinking, wondering, where she had went wrong. Never realizing that her sister loved her more than anything in the entire world. Never realizing that she was the most wonderful, innocent being ever created...

The thoughts were overwhelming Elsa, now. Drowning her in feelings she was too weak to handle. She felt like crying, again. Felt like falling to the floor and bawling her eyes out and never getting back up. She could change her appearance, she realized, but she couldn't change who she was inside. She couldn't stop the pain.

It was then, the storm of hurt and loneliness beginning to well up inside of her for what seemed like the thousandth time, that her eyes had crossed over to the pile of books on the desk, and without even processing what she was doing, she had walked over and picked one of them up, feeling the smooth skin of it rub nicely against her hand. Within a year after this incident, despite the surging importance of this certain book in her life, the girl didn't even remember which one it was. All she knew was that it was very, very boring. Very large and heavy and time-consuming. And the girl had loved it. Boy, had she loved it.

The way all her thoughts had seem to drift off at the introduction of the novel's blocky words was something she would never forget. The way all her feelings had melted away, as if ice cubes in the middle of summer, and the storm inside her was dulled to a quiet, was something she would savor for the rest of her life. Reading these things—these boring, nonfiction, bricks—helped numb her from the pain. And she needed a good numbing, she really did...

Now, around two years later, Elsa still found comfort in that same pass-time. Not only did it help her forget her feelings, but she'd found that she'd learned quite a lot from it. She now spoke at least ten languages fluently—English, Latin, French, Swedish, Japanese, German, Mandarin, Greek, Hindi, Arabic, and was in the process of learning Spanish—was highly educated in several forms of mathematics and science, had a well-organized list of all her favorite historical quotes and philosophies, was a gifted writer and public speaker, and had at least a basic knowledge of every major moment in history before her. She found there was a lot one could accomplish when learning all day, every day. Her parents had grown so proud of her, she knew they had, and all the servants in the castle seemed severely impressed. The only one who appeared to be less-than-happy about Elsa's growing skills was Anna herself, who felt not only insignificant due to her sister's rising perfection, but seemed to resent the way she spent all her time learning, rather than using it for sisterly bonding. Elsa felt a little guilty about it all, but what could she do? This was what she was meant for.

Slowly, shaking her head to once again bring herself out of her thoughts, seventeen-year-old Elsa turned her attention back to the book in her hands. After nearly fifteen minutes of daydreaming, she'd made absolutely no progress. If she wanted to finish it by noon, she'd really have to buckle down. Carefully, stretching out her fingers in her pristine, blue gloves, Elsa repositioned herself in her chair. She took a few deep breathes, emptied her mind of all thought, and tried again.

This time, she was able to concentrate for far longer than before, and for a good long time her uneasy feelings were dulled down to only a slight ache in her heart. Only when she heard a knock on her door, short and stiff and formal, did she finally look up from those crispy pages, having finally gotten to that infamous last chapter.

"Who is it?" the girl called, tilting her head slightly to the side in curiosity. She couldn't think of who might be visiting her at this time of day. Anna had long since given up on trying to get the two of them to spend time together, and Elsa knew that even the friendliest servants had grown wary of her reclusion. She wasn't what one would call the 'popular' type.

The voice that came from the other side of the wood both shocked and terrified her. But, then again, she also felt a strange surge of excitement.

"It's your father. May I come in?"

Immediately, Elsa straightened her back on her chair, checking to make sure her legs were properly crossed and her dress was neat and unwrinkled. She bit her tongue to keep herself from breathing too quickly. That would give away her nervousness for sure.

"Enter!" she called firmly, once she was positive that everything was perfect. Much to her surprise, it took only a split second for her father to do as he was told, and the sheer emotional vibe that he carried with him felt strange to her. As he approached, she could immediately tell that there was something on his mind. She just didn't know what it was yet.

"Lovely day, isn't it, Elsa?"

Understanding that this was what he expected her to do, the girl looked momently out of her window to see the hot, summer sun beating down like a heart in the sky. It was being held up by an army of fluffy, white clouds, and far off in the distance the fjord shone beautifully under its golden glare. Slowly, Elsa nodded. If he wanted to ask her such a common, boring question, she would give him a common, boring answer.

"Yes," she said, as formally as she could muster, "Indeed."

She turned back to find that he had seated himself without invitation, positioning his chair right across from her own. He seemed… different, today. Not totally, out-of-the-blue different, but a different that she had seen before. She wasn't sure how this made sense, but in her mind, it did.

She waited for her father to speak, his warm eyes flicking from her face, to the floor, to her face again, and his left foot tapping impatiently against the ground. To her own astonishment, he seemed a little jittery today, a mix of nervousness and excitement taking turns playing across his eyes, while his face was kept still and emotionless. It seemed as if she hadn't seem him behaving so 'human-like' since she was a little girl. Ever since then, at least with her, he had always just seemed so unnaturally perfect. So sure and strong and kinglike. To see him behaving this way… it was both extremely unnerving, and stunningly precious. She couldn't decide which feeling overpowered the other.

Finally, when it came to her attention that he wasn't planning to break the growing silence, Elsa found that she had to be the one to speak first.

"Is there… was there… something you wanted to say to me, Father?"

It was most definitely curious the way that he seemed to be looking her up and down, his face astonished. For a second, she was almost positive that she saw a smile curve his lips. But, just as fast, it disappeared, and she was sure she had only imagined it.

"Yes, Elsa. There are a lot of things I want to say, I just don't know where to start."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise. She hadn't had an actual conversation with her father in years. Their 'talks' mostly consisted of a few necessary words, some well-kept distance, and a cold, unwelcoming formality. The way he spoke now was so unlike that. It was endearing.

As the girl had simply stared at him, unable to come up with a suitable reply, it seemed her father had made up his mind about something he had been struggling against, for, seemingly out of nowhere, he had leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, the gentle pressure undeniable against her skin-tight cloth. She had flinched back, of course, not used to such direct touching, but his hold was tight and firm, and he did not let go even as she veered away. After a moment, Elsa managed to relax enough to keep herself still, though still feeling a twinge of anxiety.

"Elsa," he began, his voice so soft and heartfelt that she was stunned to silence, "I-I don't think I ever truly apologized to you for the things I did so long ago… I'd go into more detail, but I think you know the things I'm talking about."

Elsa's eyes widened in shock. An apology? Was this really happening?

"I know it's strange to bring them up so many years later, but I've been feeling...well...guilty for a while now, and I just want to let you know that I truly am sorry for all the pain I've put you through. I love you. You know that, don't you? I love you with every inch of my being. Everything I've ever done was intended to be for your benefit, though I have to admit, I am not the perfect father. I'm sure you've seen plenty of evidence to suggest that already… but I just wanted to let you know that I'm aware of my mistakes. I love you, I really do."

Elsa released a silent gasp at the unexpected words. The gasp was childish and unladylike, but she couldn't help it. His speech was obviously something he had rehearsed over and over again to get just right, she wasn't so stupid as to believe he had come up with it on the spot, but it did not feel forced at all. In fact, the way he said it, it felt absolutely, stunningly real. Suddenly, Elsa began to feel this sort of stirring in her heart—it was the only way she could describe the feeling—and tears pricked her eyes. For the first time in her life, however, the tears weren't from sadness or anger. They were from something else. She couldn't quite pinpoint it, just yet.

"So…" she began, trying and failing to keep her voice from shaking, "Does that mean… that you regret it? You regret what you did to that woman, you regret what you did to Benson, you regret what you did to _me_?" She was sure that that was what he was saying, but she just wanted to clarify. Or, maybe, she just wanted to hear him say it again.

To her utter heartbreak, however, Father slowly shook his head.

"Well, I didn't say that…"

Suddenly, anger replaced the sinking feeling in her chest, and trying hard to stifle the bitterness in her voice, she replied, "Then you're not sorry... you're not sorry for anything."

Her father shook his head firmly. "There's a difference," he said slowly, his voice clear and fatherly, "I do not regret what I did to that woman. She was a witch and a criminal, and deserved what was coming to her. I am, however, sorry I ever let you see her be killed. I do not regret ordering Benson's execution. He was trying to kidnap you, and it was my duty as both your father and your king to stop him. I am, however, sorry that I ever let him get that close to you to begin with. I do not regret stifling your powers, Elsa, and keeping you away from the outside world, but I am truly, truly sorry that I have caused you to fear yourself so strongly. I never meant that. I promise you, I never did."

For a moment, Elsa swore she could see a tear pricking at one of her father's eyes, but in a moment, he had sucked it right back up. Now she knew where she got it from.

"F-father," she stuttered, her eyes wide and unsure. This was all so much to take in. On one hand, his lack of regret still stung like a knife in her heart. On the other, his obvious sorrow gave her the warmest feeling she had felt all year. Why the sudden change of heart? She didn't understand.

"Elsa, please," her father responded, ignoring her silence and tightening his grip on her shoulder, "I just need to know… do you forgive me?"

That question held more weight in her soul than he could have ever imagined, and for a split second, she was almost positive she was chocking on it. How did he expect her to just answer that right off the bat? How on Earth did even _she _know what she was thinking? With the feelings from her childhood still lurking silently in the back of her mind, and all the new emotions now bouncing around freshly in her brain, her thoughts were now as fogged and blurry as ever. Did she forgive him? How could she… after all he'd done to her! But then again, how could she not? He was her father. And the way he looked at her now, she was almost positive that he meant ever word he said. He loved her from the bottom of his heart. And she… well, she loved him too. Ever after everything he'd done to her, she still loved him. She always had, and always would. Just as she'd sobbed into his shirt the horrific day that he had tortured that woman, clinging onto him from the pain that he himself had caused, she realized now that no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't hate him. Not him, not him.

"Yes, Father. Of course I forgive you. Fully and completely."

As he had smiled at her, his eyes washed clean with relief, she had felt a tinge of guilt in the very pit of her stomach. She didn't like lying to her father. She really didn't. But she knew that telling him the truth would hurt him, and she cared for him far too much to let him feel that pain.

She loved him, but she did not forgive him. She wasn't sure how those feelings were possible together, but they were. They really were.

"I'm so proud of you, Elsa," the man whispered, his eyes so kind and warm, "At first, after your servant's execution, I was worried that I had somehow damaged you beyond repair, but you've really come out remarkably. You're graceful and smart and hardworking… you'll be an excellent queen one day, I'm sure of it."

Though his words were obviously intended as a compliment, Elsa suddenly felt a wave of sadness wash over her heart. She realized now, her hope sinking, that her father was proclaiming his love not to the angry, love-craving, fourteen-year-old version of herself that needed it the most, but to the pleasant, perfect, seventeen-year-old Elsa. The Elsa that wasn't really her at all. Did he really love her? Or did he just love the mask she wore to cover herself? Did he even have a clue of who she really was _inside_? The girl didn't know, and at the moment, she didn't much feel like trying to figure it out. Taking a few deep breaths, she silently told herself that he loved her from the bottom of his soul, not caring if it were all a lie. She just needed to hear it. She just needed _him_.

After a good few minutes of comfortable silence, through which Elsa took the time to pull herself together, her father finally spoke again. This time, when he did, his voice held a tinge of excitement, and Elsa listened intently.

"Now that that's taken care of... I have some wonderful news to tell you!" he had exclaimed, a smile brimming his face, "You won't believe it. After so long, it almost seems like a cruel joke… even to me!"

"What?" she asked him, her eyes wide, "What is it?" Obviously, this was why he had even come in the first place. If it prompted him to speak the words he had just told her, it must have been something unbelievable. Something extraordinary.

If possible, his smile widened even more.

"Elsa, my dear... your mother and I have just received a letter from a faraway empire on the east side," he began, now reaching down to take her gloved hands in his own, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly on the back of her palm, "They claim—though proof has yet to be given—that they may have found the cure for your mysterious curse!"

Elsa raised her eyebrows, her lips slightly parted. The only thing she could think to say, her voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible, was "How?"

"Many years ago," her father continued, getting more excited by the second, "The very day that you were conceived, in fact, and your particular 'disability' discovered, your mother and I sent this empire a note asking for their help. They are world-famous for their knowledge in magical ailments, and though the chances were slim—as they are known to be a very isolated and often violent people—we knew we had to at least try to ask for some assistance. When they didn't respond, we lost hope rather quickly… but now? Now we finally have a chance, Elsa! Don't you see!"

The girl could barely breathe. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about this yet. Her powers had plagued her her entire life, brought nothing but pain and misfortune to wherever she dared to tread, but to get rid of them? The idea was simply… disconcerting. They had been part of her, had _been_ her, for so long. It would be like waking up to find that someone had mysteriously chopped off her arm while she slept. She liked her arm.

"That's… very interesting," she heard herself saying, still running the possibility over and over again through her brain, "What's your plan? Are the king and queen visiting? Should we prepare for their arrival?"

Slowly, Father shook his head, but his look of glee did not falter.

"It was agreed that your mother and I would sail off to this kingdom as soon as possible… which should be around next week, maybe sooner if we're lucky. They invited us to take a look at what they have discovered, so we can decide if we're willing to try it on you. We'll be gone for two weeks, at the most."

At this, Elsa's eyes widened, and then narrowed considerably. Something about that proposal simply didn't sound right…

"Why not take me with you?" she asked, trying to inject her own logic into the situation, "It'll be far more efficient that way. They can look me over, examine my powers for themselves, and if we agree to whatever treatment they seem to have concocted, I can take it right then and there. Far simpler, don't you think?"

Suddenly, Father rubbed the back of his neck. He gave her a sheepish smile, and the air gained about a bucketful of tension and awkwardness. "Well, about that, Elsa dear…"

"What about it?" she interrupted, raising her eyebrow in suspicion.

"They… well, there's no nice way to put this... asked us not to bring you."

That was the final straw for Elsa. Everything clicked into place. It was too risky, she realized. The situation was all too uncertain. The feeling of uneasiness that had rested upon her mind only this morning now had a reason to it. Elsa occasionally found herself having small premonition, and she had no doubt that this was one of them.

"You're not going," she said, so strongly and firmly that, for a moment, her father stared at her in shook.

"Well, why not?" he asked her after regaining his composure, "I don't understand why it matters so—"

"It's a trap, Father," she interrupted, struggling not to roll her eyes, "Isn't it obvious? They haven't been searching for a cure for seventeen years, that's insane… they've just now decided that saying so would be a good way to lure you there. If you go, they'll capture you and kill you not a moment after you step off the boat. Of course they didn't want you to bring me… they know of my powers, and they're aware of my ability to fend them off! But the two of you alone will never stand a chance. You must stay."

After a moment of awkward staring, Father threw his face in his hands and shook his head.

"You sound just like your mother," he murmured, annoyance creeping into his voice, "She was suspicious, too. But I managed to convince her otherwise…"

Slowly, Father raised his head, and the girl was shocked at the look of pity in his eyes.

"Elsa, honey, its not that far of a stretch to assume that they didn't want you to visit their kingdom for, well, other reasons. Let's be honest here... you do have quite a dangerous and unpredictable power. I doubt they'd want someone with your such ability in their empire. Its too much of a liability. They don't know if the concoction will work on you yet, and I'm sure they wouldn't want you within a thousand miles of their kingdom, or themselves, until they were absolutely positive that they could control you. I didn't want to tell you all this, Elsa, but you pushed me…"

What her father was suggesting, though grossly sugarcoated, was that they were terrified of her. She was too much of a monster to enter their godforsaken kingdom.

Like she needed him to say it so indirectly. She knew the truth even better than he did.

"Still," Elsa continued, her mind set, "The entire prospect is just so suspicious. It's not worth the risk. You can't go."

She could tell her father was getting angry at her, now. He didn't like being argued with... no king did. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were spread into a scowl so thin that his mouth was practically one long line.

"Not _worth_ it?" he began, his voice exasperated, "Elsa, this is your _future_ we're talking about! If we do this we could get rid of your curse forever! I'm willing to risk everything for that!"

There it was. The main objective. It all went back to her powers. Always.

Her father had never liked them, she knew that fact like the back of her hand. Unlike her mother, he had never once shown any admiration towards them, not even when she was just a little girl and they had been used for nothing more than to make pretty little snowflakes float around through the air. When she had grown older, and they had gotten out of control, he had wasted no time locking her away in a castle. She remembered how insistent he had always been about her learning to control them. He went on and on about how important it was, about how he knew she could do it, about how there must be a cure. Elsa realized, now, that though her father may have loved her, he absolutely hated her powers. Hated them from the very bottom of his heart. She didn't know why, and probably never would, but the very thought of it made her glare at his shoes in scorn.

The only reason he even reached out to her now was because he thought she'd soon by relieved of her powers. If that hadn't been the case, none of his words would have been said, she was sure of it. For a split second, she wanted to jump up from her seat and simply scream at him. She wanted to pound her fists against the ground and freeze the entire castle and let him feel her burning, icy rage. He loved her, she knew that, but not _nearly_ as much as he hated her powers. If he had loved her enough, he would've never put her through all that pain. If he had loved her enough, he would have never kept her so caged for her entire life. If he had loved her enough, everything could've been different...

But no. This was the way her life turned out. She was just going to have to accept it.

Suddenly, a sigh like a mini-hurricane filled Elsa's lungs, and she released it silently, feeling the way her own breath tickled her lips at its escape. She couldn't get mad at him. She wasn't that type of person… not anymore. As a future queen, she was supposed to be soft, and kind, and perfect...not angry and rebellious...and so she would do just as was expected of her. Just like always.

And, besides, how could she dare yell at a man whose declaration of love for her was still ringing beautifully through her mind? Maybe he did hold her powers at a higher value than he did his own daughter, but it didn't matter anymore. He just admitted to loving her, and that was something she had wanted to hear for so, so long. She couldn't help it. Even the ice princess needed some warmth. And he was the wonderful being that had finally given it to her.

But that didn't change the fact that he was being foolish.

"Please," she said after an impossibly long stretch of silence, "I have a really bad feeling about your trip. I don't want anything to happen to you. Just don't go."

Her father shook his head slowly and stood up, walking swiftly towards the door. He grabbed its handle firmly and pulled it open in one foul swoop. With one foot already out, he turned his head and began to speak.

"I'm sorry if you're nervous, Elsa," he pronounced, looking straight into her cold, blue eyes, "But I'm the father in this household, and I say we're going to be fine. You're mother and I are leaving, and that's final."

He finished his exit and shut the door loudly behind him. Elsa could still feel the vibration of the slam for hours after he had left. Or, at least, she thought she could. Her mind was too blurred to make any sense of it.

Fine, her parents were leaving. She could live with that. She just wasn't sure if they could.

Her mind swimming like a series of ocean waves, emotions pulsing through her heart faster and more powerfully than her own blood, Elsa did the only thing that made any sense to her in this type of situation. Slowly, she turned sideways, picked up her book, and began to read...

* * *

**Well, that was it. Not my best work, but I hope you liked it! I'll probably go back and edit it tomorrow, but I'm already a bit behind schedule, so I wanted to post it tonight. **

**Obviously, (spoiler alert if you haven't seen the movie yet, but that would be pretty unlikely if you're reading this) Elsa's parents die in the next chapter. Yes, I know their boat goes down during a storm in the film, not from an attack, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten that. You'll see what I do, it's not too much of a stretch.**

**I was originally planning to make the 'death scene' part of this chapter, but this one is long enough, and I feel that since Elsa's father is such a huge part of the story, his death deserved a little more attention. It's almost like a resolution to the conflict (though, its not really. It leaves too many questions open for me to just leave it at that. Don't worry, you'll eventually see what I'll do to resolve my fanfic in a satisfactory way). **

**So... I'll see you next week, I guess! Bye friends! **


	8. The Ship

**Hey everybody! I'm back!**

**Ok, first off, let me apologize for missing my last update. My laptop just completely broke (it was really old, not a big deal) so I had to order a new one and wait until it arrived, which took at least a week. Luckly, I managed to make this chapter just in time for this weekend... so I hope you like it! Just a forewarning, though, my next few weeks or so are going to be very busy, so my update-timing may be a little off. Hopefully nothing too drastic, though.**

**This chapter takes place right after the last. Elsa's parents are off to travel to some unknown empire. I think we both know what's going to happen...**

* * *

It was nearly noon by the time Elsa finally worked up enough courage to leave her tiny, secluded room on the second floor and venture off into the vast and uncharted territory of the hallway.

Not even five minutes before she had heard the sound of rushing footsteps past her closed door, indicating an always-affectionate Anna on her way to say her goodbyes. Elsa had listened in half-interest as the girl had embraced their parents, heard the words of farewell between the small group, and wondered to herself if a single one of them really knew the dangers that they might soon face. She guessed not. Their farewell was far too cheery, with far too many "see you soon's" and "bring me back a souvenir's" to indicate that a single soul doubted their return.

Oh, but Elsa did. And the thought was killing her.

Today was the day, she knew. The day her parents finally stopped their endless rattling about their trip and just went, already. Went to visit a strange and mysterious empire, went to discover a cure for Elsa's dangerous powers, went to possibly throw themselves into death's dark and welcoming arms. She knew it was no good to think that way, knew that she was probably overreacting just as her father had told her she was, but she simply couldn't stop that feeling of dread that kept pushing outwards from the very pit of her stomach, squirming and writhing and trying to escape. It wasn't unbearable, but plenty strong, and as she went to close the bedroom door behind her, her stomach gave a huge lurch, feeling as if she had swallowed a hot ball of lead. Biting her lip, Elsa urged herself to hold back the wave of nausea... or worse, ice. Letting go of either of those gross projectiles was not something very high up on her to-do list.

Her heels pounded the ground beneath her as she began walking down the hallway, and knowing she had to be presentable for her parent's goodbye, she tucked a stray hair back into place. She considered, momentarily, going to her parents room and helping them with their bags, like would be expected of the oldest child, but quickly thought better of it. Anna was still in there saying goodbye, and she didn't want to intrude. Stepping as neatly as she could, Elsa slowly walked over to and descended the fine wooden staircase of the castle, one gloved-hand trailing the railing lightly. She'd meet her parents at the doorway... yes, that seemed the best.

Elsa must have been waiting for at least fifteen minutes at the foot of the staircase, standing stalk still with her hands clasped nervously in her lap. It took all her effort not to wring them together, but she had long since mastered the art of not moving, and if not for the obvious life in her eyes, passers-by could have easily mistaken her for an intricately carved statue.

She knew that her parents were finally coming downstairs before she had even gotten the chance to look up. She heard their footsteps as they walked simultaneously down the stair case, the click of her mother's heels sounding almost rhythmic next to the deep stamping of her father's boots, and she forced herself into a little curtsey just in time for them to approach her.

She thought she'd gotten over the fact of their departure a week ago, thought she was strong enough to sit there and smile as they said their goodbyes for possibly the last time in her life, but when she looked up into her parents eyes, saw them standing side by side above her as they had done so many times before, the little smile she had tried to force onto her face faded into nothingness, and a swirl of sick nostalgia began to pulse through her heart.

Her father. He was standing so tall and proud in front of her, his eyes full of warmth and kindness, all of it directed at her. Her mother. She was standing there, smiling, with a gentle hand placed delicately on his shoulder. So small and quiet, yet at the same time the most intelligent woman Elsa had ever known.

They had been in her life for as long as she had been alive...though, admittedly, the fact that they were her parents made that pretty much a given...and she had loved them for exactly that long. It had been a while since the girl had thought back to her childhood, or at least her childhood pre-incident, but as she stood there, looking up at them with so much longing and love, memory after memory raced through her mind.

She remembered the way, back when she was nothing more than a bright-faced, bright-eyed five year old, her father would come home each day very late at night. He'd always just finished a long, boring meeting with his economic or military advisers, and was probably in a very cranky mood, just wanting to trudge upstairs and get to bed. Yet, whenever he entered the castle, only to find Elsa sitting by the door and waiting for him, all of that bitterness seemed to melt away. He would grab her in his arms and hold her tight and swing her around and around in the air, and she would just let him, laughing and screaming and giggling like it was the most wonderful thing in the world. And, in her mind, it was. It always was.

And then there was her mother. So sweet and kind and lovely. In the earliest years of childhood, Elsa had the fondest memories of curling up in her mother's lap after her nightly bath, reading her favorite storybooks aloud as the woman ran a wooden brush down her long, white locks, her other hand resting warmly on Elsa's arm. When the story was finished and her hair wound up neatly into a braid, little Elsa would lean her head back against her mother's shoulder, curling up in her arms, and soon drift off into a pleasant, dream-filled sleep. Always, she would wake up next morning back in bed, tucked carefully beneath the covers. Always, she felt the ghost of her mother's kiss still tingling the skin of her cheek.

Those times were long gone... logically, Elsa knew this. But emotionally? Emotionally, she was still that same five-year-old girl she had been so long ago. She was still being lifted into the air and swung around and around and around in her father. She was still falling asleep in her mother's lap and being carried lovingly back to bed. She was still holding their hands and kissing their cheeks and laughing so childishly at their jokes. She had grown up, but deep down she was still that little girl. And she knew she would always be.

So, as she looked up into her parents eyes, felt their pressence and attention press upon her face, only one thought crossed her mind. And she voiced it without even a hint of hesitation.

"Do you have to go?"

She was pleading with them, but as much as it hurt her pride to accept, there was no denying it. Her eyes were wide and desperate, her mouth turned downwards in a fearful grimace. She looked her father dead on, her icy blue orbs meeting his warm brown ones, and without a single word added, she told him everything. Everything. She told him how much she loved him, how much she loved her mother, how scared she was of losing them, how she would do _anything _to keep them safe. How she needed them. She told that all with a single glance, in a fraction of a second. It was impossible, but true. She really needed them.

She knew it was stupid to even think like that, but at that moment, she felt as if it were her last chance. Her last chance to get them to stay. To save their lives. If he didn't agree to stay home and stay safe, she didn't know what she'd do. She wouldn't be able to do _anything, _for that matter. She'd be empty.

For a moment, a single beautiful moment as her father looked straight back at her, she felt a tinge of hope start to blossom like a flower in her chest. She saw pity in his eyes. Sympathy. Love. If only he had loved her enough.

"You'll be fine, Elsa."

The girl's heart fell to her feet. She was wrong. He didn't understand her at all. He could see nothing.

Her father thought she was worried about _herself, _of all things. He thought she was feeling anxious about her powers, about keeping Anna away from her while the two of them were gone. Didn't he understand? Hadn't she already _explained _this to him? It wasn't herself she was worried about, it was them! And she _needed_ them, that was more than true. If they didn't come back... well, she didn't know what she'd do. She'd most certainly _not_ be fine. Not at all.

Sensing her distress, Elsa's mother stepped forward, looking as mature and beautiful as always, and threw her arms around her daughter without even a hint of warning. For a moment, the girl stood stalk still, unable to comprehend the way those fragile yet strong arms wrapped so comfortably around her neck. Her breathing stopped cold, but still she could feel her mother's warm, repeated breaths beating consistantly against her neck. After what seemed like hours, though could've only been moments, Elsa finally allowed her eyes to slip closed, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist as she returned the hug.

"Don't worry, honey. It'll all be alright. It'll all be alright. Trust us... we're doing this because we love you."

The words were almost unbelievable. Unimaginable in every single way. Elsa hadn't heard the woman speak so deeply to her, hadn't interacted so warmly with her, in... years. So, so many years.

Her father had always been the one to deal with Elsa. The one to scold her when she did wrong, the one to pull her back when she walked out of line. The one to make all of the tough decisions. She knew, had always known, that her mother and father had agreed to this in the very beginning. Mother was too kind, Father had told her when she was merely twelve-years-old, too soft. She didn't have the heart to see her daughter struggle so hopelessly. Didn't have the heart to watch her go through all that pain and not do a thing about it. But she had known, really, that it was for the best. So, her parents agreed, dealing with Elsa was father's job, and dealing with Anna would be mother's. It was for the best, they told her. Elsa had always thought that parenting was a two-person kind of work, but she guessed she was wrong. They were her parents. They knew better, after all.

For a long time, now, Elsa had seen little to nothing of her mother. They wouldn't talk, they wouldn't laugh, they would barely even look at each other. During family dinners, the one impossibly long dining table dressed with four sets of dish ware, Mother and Anna sat on one end, while she and Father sat on the other. And on those rare occasions when their eyes actually _did_ meet-Elsa and her mother looking straight into each other's souls-all Elsa could see were two strong, horribly conflicting emotions. Fear, fear of her powers and her lack of control and the monster that lived inside of her very daughter, and Love. Love. Mother had loved her, too. Just as much as Father had loved her. But just like Father, she had never loved her quite enough. Fear was always just a little bit stronger than love. And fear always prospered. Fear always prospered.

Now, Elsa knew where she got it from.

Far too quickly, yet after far too long, Mother pulled away from the hug, looking Elsa deep in the eyes.

"See you soon. Be good."

And that had been it, really. That was all. Final goodbyes were given, Anna gave another set of hugs, and Elsa watched from the window as the two of them loaded themselves into the large, wooden ship, the sky a beautiful shade of orange behind them, and disappeared forever. Despite her own pleas of denial, telling herself over and over again that she was being paranoid, the girl made herself absorb every image her eyes could pick up. Absorb the way her father's crown rested so perfectly on his head, straight and tall and polished, just like_ he_ always was. Absorb the way her mother's dress fluttered so gracefully at her ankles, like a flower's petals, as she stepped onto the boat. Absorb the way the two held hands as they started their decent, drifting farther and farther and farther away until they were nothing but specks in the distance. And then... they were gone. Just gone.

Blinking away the memory of their shrinking silhouettes, Elsa slowly turned away from the window, hands held firmly behind her back. Despite her formal composure, the girl nearly fell over when she found Anna standing only inches away from her, eyes still glued to the window. Very quickly, her innocent blue orbs flitted to Elsa's face, and Elsa saw the sadness swimming deep inside them. Her parents, Elsa realized, were Anna's only friends. Without them... well, she was all alone. They both were.

"How long do you think they'll be gone?"

Anna's voice was so soft, filled with so much longing, that if she hadn't been staring right at her, Elsa would've doubted that the sound had come from her usually cheerful sister. It was weird to see her so upset over their departure, simply because it wasn't even half as bad for Anna as it was for her. To Anna, their parents were only going on a week-long trading excursion, not on a ride to their death. Anna wouldn't have much to worry about when they were gone. But then again, it would be that much worse for the girl if they really _did_ die out there...

Suddenly, Elsa felt a strong sense of pity begin to swirl inside her heart. The answer to her sister's question came to her as naturally as her powers always did.

_Forever._

But... no. She couldn't say that to the girl. What kind of monster would she be? She needed to be... supportive. If only she knew how.

"Um... I'm sure they'll be back within a week or so. Don't worry, they won't be gone long."

At that, Anna had looked just the littlest bit hopeful, and for Elsa, that was enough. In an instant, she had retreated to her room. Simply walked away and strutted right back up the stairs, hiding herself, as she always did, in the cage of her own solitude. She left Anna still staring out that window, Elsa's lie still ringing out into the air. It would never stop ringing. Never stop ringing.

The next week passed by so slowly, it was nearly unbearable. Time seemed to have gone on a permanent vacation, and Elsa found herself spending every hour of every day staring blankly out her bedroom window. Oh, she tried to read, but concentration seldom came, and soon she just gave up. Instead, during all hours of the day, she just gazed at the outside. The place she hadn't set foot in for nearly ten years. The place her parents had done such a wonderful job restricting her from.

Her parents. They would be back. She knew they would... they had to. She was only being paranoid, before. Paranoid and fearful and childish. Things would all be alright, she felt stupid for even believing otherwise. What had she been thinking? Nobody was out to murder the King and Queen of Arendelle. They had never done a thing to harm another empire, so no empire would ever do a thing to harm them. That was logical, wasn't it? Maybe the kingdom that they had come in contact with really _did _have a cure for Elsa. Maybe they would give it to her and finally, _finally_, she could be a normal girl again. The gates could open and she could take off her stupid gloves and she and Anna could start to become friends again. Without her powers, without the curse of ice and snow to follow her around and cause havoc wherever she dared tread, she could do... could do... _anything! _Anything at all! Oh, she was being so close-minded and foolish, before. Of course there was a cure for her powers, there had to be! And of course her mother and father would find it, they'd always come through for her before! They would find it and cure her and then, for the first time in forever, she'd be _free!_ Freer than she could ever imagine. It would be amazing, magnificent, miraculous! When her parents returned... her life would begin.

And she simply couldn't wait any longer.

...

It was a little more than two weeks after her parents departure when she finally got the news.

She should have expected it, really. The day the letter arrived, Anna had been downstairs and right out in the open, so of course the girl had been the first to know. Elsa should have expected it the exact moment that she had heard that cry. That horrible, infamous cry. She'd never heard, never even dreamed of hearing, such a heart wrenching, pitiful sound from the mouth of her own sister. Not cheery, optimistic little Anna. Never.

Yet, there it was. One second, she had been engaged in a novel about the physics of sailing, the next, her state of tranquility was shattered. Even through her closed door, even an entire staircase away, she still heard as Anna crashed to the floor far below her, an unearthly gasp escaping her lips, followed suit by a wail one might expect to hear from a dying cat. In only moments, Elsa heard the sound of rushing footsteps passed her door, accompanied by a loud, muffled sobbing as Anna cried into her hands. Then there was the sound of a door being slammed shut, and Elsa knew that Anna had withdrawn into her room, just as she herself always did. That had been a clear sign that something was utterly, horribly wrong.

But Elsa still had not expected it. The thought didn't even cross her mind, she wouldn't let it. She told herself that Anna had probably just been trying to flirt with that cute stableboy again, and he had rejected her due to the fact that she was five years too young for him. That was all. Anna was just being silly. That was all.

After forcing denial into her aching heart, Elsa barely even heard the light, nervous tap on her door. She bit her lip, slowed down her breathing, and then chocked out a response.

"Who is it?"

The answer was instantaneous. The voice sounded hurried and desperate.

"I am here to deliver an urgent message to you, Princess Elsa of Arendelle."

A message? She had never gotten any messages before. That was odd.

"Oh," she found herself saying, her voice flat, "Then I shall receive it."

Her body moved without asking her mind for permission. Before long, she was standing on one side of an open doorway, face-to-face with a castle servant. She could tell that the man was not having his best of days, just from first glance. Huge, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his eyebrows were twisted upwards in what seemed like a permanent look of distress. Elsa pitied the man. Though, by the look of his expression, it almost seemed as if he pitied her.

There was silence for an awkward moment, so Elsa forced herself to speak up.

"My message?"

"Oh, yes," the man cleared his throat, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment, "I have... urm... a note for you. From a neighboring kingdom. Our closest ally, in fact. I would like to suggest-with all due respect, Princess-that you sit down while you read it. It would have saved some bloody knees had I had the premonition to warn your sister."

For the first time, Elsa noticed the scrap of parchment clutched in the man's shaky, withered hand. He held it out, and very delicately, as if it were a volcano ready to erupt, she grabbed it in her own. It was from one of Arendelle's closest allies, a kingdom called Corona. It wasn't where her parents had been traveling to, so she figured that that was a good sign. Taking a deep breath, trying not to remind herself that her world might end at any moment, Elsa unrolled the paper and began to read. She had forgotten to sit down. She wished she hadn't.

* * *

_Dear Princesses of Arendelle, _

_...We highly regret having to inform you of this,_

_but someone must, and no matter who tells you, we_

_know the pain you will experience will be no less real. So, _

_Elsa and Anna of Arendelle, we send our deepest regards _

_with the message that your mother and father, the King_

_and Queen of your fine kingdom, have been pronounced_

_dead._

_...Less than twenty-four hours ago, a few of our navy _

_ships came across some wreckage in the ocean nearest _

_our sea port. Unfortunately, all bodies have yet to be_

_discovered, but upon closer inspection, many pieces _

_of the __ship's wooden boards were inscribed with_

_Arendelle's __signature markings. _

_...We understand that __your parents __were voyaging to_

_ a distant empire before their __tragic death, __and it can _

_be assumed that they were __mistakenly directed __into _

_the path of a violent, storming sea, __one rumored by _

_some __to be 'internally cursed with rage.' __True or not, _

_their death seems to be nothing more than __a mistake. _

_A tragic one, of course, but no investigation __seems to _

_be necessary. Of course, as your neighboring nation,_

_we wish you the best, and hope you continue to _

_survive and prosper._

_-Sending our deepest regards, the King and Queen of Corona._

* * *

When Elsa looked up from the parchment, her knees incredibly weak and her hands shaking wildly, she saw the servant staring at her, his eyes wide and fearful. He was probably expecting her to react the same as Anna. To cry and scream and wail like the pained soul she knew she was. And deep down, Elsa almost wanted to. But she couldn't. Being the way she was... she couldn't react to these types of situations the way normal people could. Even in moments as dire and dark as these, she had to hold herself together.

Gritting her teeth, Elsa reacted the only way she could manage.

"Thank you for the message," she said abruptly, thrusting the paper back into his hand, "I... should get back to my studies, now. If you come across any more information, feel free to contact me again."

Then she slammed the door right then and there, and waited in silence as the man slowly toddled off to spread the heartbreaking, home-wreaking news. She felt the vibrations deep down from within her very bones, and before she knew it, she had slid to the ground at the exact spot she stood. And she had broken.

...

Time passed in a blur. Her memories of the next two weeks were scattered and distant. A mix of streaming tears, of tingling fury, of murdering despair, of unplacable anger. So many times Anna had come by pounding on the door, screaming and crying and _begging_ for some form, any form, of comfort. But, no matter what, Elsa had to stay silent. Her parents were dead... but the rules were still the same.

It had been snowing non-stop in her room for days. Her bedpost was slick with ice and her walls white with frost. She was literally living in a winter wonderland. Though, in all honesty, it wasn't as wonderful as it sounded. She should've had more control over herself, should've been able to deal with this, or at least that was what she told herself over and over again. She _had_ been expecting it, after all. But that didn't really seem to matter. Expecting it or not, the pain she felt was real. Her parents were dead. And they were never coming back. She was alone.

One day-Elsa wasn't sure how long it had been after the news, though it surely felt like decades-as she had sat shivering on the floor, Elsa had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the far side of the wall. That horrible, reflective piece of glass. She hated it without a second thought, but what she hated more was the thing she saw inside of it.

Across from her face, nose-to-nose, was some vile, despicable creature. It crouched on the floor, dress caked in ice, ripped to shreds from constant thawing and refreezing. At the base of its head was a wild, blond-white main, hair flying out everywhere, seeming almost crystallized with all the frost collecting on its shiny surface. It wasn't a pretty sight... but its eyes, oh they were the worst. She didn't even need to see the tears streaming down them, didn't even need to notice their puffy redness, or pick up the huge bags that hung beneath. Just looking into those swirling pits of despair was enough. The creature was a miserable thing. Depressing and horrifying and monstrous. It sat there, drowning in its own guilt and shame and sorrow, feeling sorry for itself like a sick sort of toddler. Oh, what a pitiful creature. What a pitiful beast. What a pitiful monster.

What a pitiful queen, Elsa was. What a pitiful queen.

Suddenly, as had happened so often before, Elsa's sadness was replaced by blinding fury, and she hoped to her feet. The world turned black and red, and she felt the undeniable urge to destroy something just the same way that the universe seemed to be intent on destroying _her. _She looked at herself once again in the reflective glass. The way her face was contorted in an angry, broken grimace. The way her fists were clenched so tight, her eyes narrowed so evilly. She really did look like a monster. And if she was a monster... well, then she figured she'd better start acting like it.

As she twisted her face into a rather disturbed grin, Elsa stuck out one of her hands and released a small, yet powerful, blast of ice. It bounced against the mirror's surface with an earsplitting crack, and when the cloud of frost disapated from the air, she saw that she had created a huge, jagged line down its formerly-perfect features.

"That's for torturing the woman," she said, her voice filled with an insanity she had never known she had possessed.

She stuck out her other hand. Without even a second thought, another burst of ice shot from it, and another crack appeared in the mirror.

"That's for murdering Benson." Her voice was getting louder now. It was steady, but in an unsettling kind of way. She didn't know what was happening to her, what was making her go so out of control, or what she was even doing in the first place, but she knew it couldn't be good. She didn't care.

"That's for locking me up!" Another burst of ice. And another. "That's for hurting Anna in the process!"

The fury was so strong now. It boiled in her stomach, in her chest, in her lungs like the hottest pit of lava mother nature would ever dare to create. It was strange, for a girl made of ice, but she loved it. She thrived on it. She fed on it.

_CRASH_

"That's for making me love you even when I know I have every right to hate your guts!"

She was ready to spill over, now. Ready to collapse on the spot and explode with all the rampaging emotions in her heart.

_BANG_

"That's for building my dungeon, and avoiding me when I needed you the most, and being completely _terrified_ of me!"

That shot, specifically, was for her mother.

SCREECH

"That's for making me fear_ myself_ more than anything...and for turning me into such a monster!"

For her father, of course. It could only be.

BOOM

"And _THAT'S_ for dying!"

Her last shot was a hundred times stronger than all the others, she simply couldn't hold back, and the mirror immediately shattered into thousands of pieces. Shards of glass flew into the air and littered the room like diamonds. Unaware of anything else but the swirling storm inside her, Elsa slowly fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her face in the process. The glass and ice pierced her skin like a million tiny knives. She didn't even notice.

"Why did you have to _die?"_ she whispered to no one in particular, the tears beginning to well up again, "I _needed _you. I still do."

There was no answer, of course, and soon she found herself looking up. Looking up at the mess she had created.

The shattered glass... it was her life. She saw from every piece of it, every single shard that stretched across her tundra of a room, a distorted reflection of herself. Broken and tortured and so grossly deformed. Once, so long ago, she had been whole. Whole and strong and beautiful. Been a mirror without a single scratch to mare her perfect surface. But time had taken its toll. She had received crack after crack, time after time, after each incident getting just a little bit closer to falling apart. And the last blow life had given her, the death of the only two people left in the world who still knew her secret, was the final one. The deadly one. It had shattered her into as many pieces as the mirror itself... and there was no going back. She would always be shattered.

Her mother and father were dead. She had told herself this hundreds of times in the past few days, yet she could never seem to believe it. She couldn't. If they were dead... that meant that it was her fault. They had died on her name, gone to fetch a cure for the incurable disease of her very existence, and she would always hold that in her heart, no matter how hard she tried to shake the feeling of such pressing guilt. And she would always, always remember the way she had just stood there, by the window, and watched them go. She had _known _that she might never see them again, and yet she had let them go, anyway. Watched them step onto their own, watery death. If they were really dead... she would die with them.

Elsa let out a chocked, miserable, gasping sound, feeling repulsed with herself as she released it, yet unable to hold it back. She knew, now, what had happened. The empire that her mother and father had contacted, filled with people who were apparently knowledgeable in the universe of magic, had indeed invited them over to die... just not in the way Elsa had expected. They had given her parents a map, a map that led right to the 'cursed' waters, on the soul intention of sinking their boat. Of course they didn't want Elsa to come with... she could've frozen some of the water, if she wanted to, or even built a new ice-ship right then and there. What a fool she was, letting her parents leave like that. What a fool her _father_ was, not seeing the truth. Suddenly, deep down to her very core, she hated him. Hated him with all of her being. And then the love returned, quick as it had vanished, and she gasped from the shame.

Above everything, there was one thing Elsa could never forget. When she had finished reading the letter, her mind just grasping the impossible fact that she was an orphan, her first feeling, the one that had come to her most naturally, was one of relief. Her parents were dead... and she was _relieved_._  
_

If that didn't make her a monster, nothing would.

...

Five days after that incident was her parent's funeral. She watched it from her bedroom window.

It was sad, seeing her parent's gravestones standing tall and lonely on the hill, the cloudy sky darkening slowly behind them as if marking the end of an era. It was sad, knowing that they weren't really gravestones at all, just monuments, as no bodies had ever been found. It was sad, realizing that it was really all over, that she would never see her parents again.

But watching Anna standing there all alone, dressed in the driearest of black with invisible lines of water trailing down her face... that was more than sad. It was heartbreaking.

She couldn't stand it... she couldn't stand _herself._ Letting her little sister deal with something as painful as this all by herself. She should've been there for her. Should've held her hand and hugged her tight and let her cry into her shoulder. And if only she could've... then maybe things wouldn't have been so hard on the both of them. But, no... she couldn't. She was a mess right now. The ice, the snow, the wreckage. It was everywhere. It was quite evident, now, that whatever self-control she had gained with Benson so many years ago had long been lost. Her powers were stronger and more out-of-control than ever. She couldn't let Anna see. She'd know, and then the whole world would know, and facade that she and her father had spent so many years perfecting would be destroyed in minutes. Her father was dead, but she had to keep his legacy alive. She would not disappoint him. Just as he'd wanted of her, she would be strong, her feelings concealed, and would eventually become queen of Arendelle. That was her destiny, and it was not in her right to adjust it.

Oh, poor Anna. Poor girl. She would never understand. She would always feel alone and unloved and unwanted. If only she knew... if only Elsa had the right, the ability, to tell her. But, of course, she didn't, and wishing otherwise simply wouldn't do a thing. The best thing Elsa could do for her sister would be to just wait and hope that, one day, she'd be able to get away from this castle. Go out into the world and meet new friends and find people who not only loved her, but were able to show their love without fear or consequence. Anna, though her days were lonely, still had hope for a happy future. If only she could say the same for herself...

Even listening in through her open window, Elsa could tell that the funeral was long and dreary, not a happy experience for anyone. Anna stood, sad and alone, between her parent's gravestones, nearly every other resident of the small kingdom standing and watching from ten-feet-away, and Elsa found herself tuning out through the majority of the speeches. They were spoken mostly by the king's and queen's officials... people who had only known her parents on a professional level, not who they really were inside... and were all fairly similar in structure. They went on and on about her parents' 'strength,' and 'smarts,' and 'fairness,' discussing everything there was about raising a kingdom, as if this were the only thing either of them had ever done. As if they hadn't loved and raised two difficult _children... _what Elsa considered the hardest job of all. But, oh well. She guessed she really didn't expect them to understand, anyway. To them, to the entire world, the king and queen would always be just that. The king and queen. Sure, many of the townsfolk bawled their eyes out, clearly grief-stricken over the loss, but they didn't really understand. They hadn't lost their parents, people who'd loved them and raised them and guarded them for their entire lives. They'd only lost a pair of decent rulers, and clearly that wasn't the same thing. Not at all.

The only words that didn't seem to make a complete mockery of her parents' existence, just out of the mere shallowness of personal knowledge, was Anna's speech herself. Though, in all honesty, most of it consisted of words Elsa had written.

Of course, being their daughter, everyone in the kingdom expected Anna to read something aloud at the ceremony, even if she had nothing at all to say. Then again, Elsa was expected of the same. She had gotten out of it by claiming sickness, but Anna had no such lying skills. And so there she had been, all alone on that hill, speaking about her dead parents.

"My mom and dad," Anna began, her voice quivering as she stared down solemnly at her feet, "Were great people. Really, honestly, they were... and its just not fair that they had to go this way. Out of every noble way they could've died, it was from an accident of nature, something that could have been prevented, and its just not fair. I-I don't know what to say, really. I mean, I just loved them so much, its hard to put that all into words. They weren't just great rulers... they were the greatest parents I could have ever asked for... and I'm sure, if she were able to be here, Elsa would say the same. She, um, sent me some words this morning to read off of, and I guess now would be a good time to share them..."

Elsa couldn't help leaving at least _something_ for her parents. Last night, until the moon shown high and bright in the sky and the wolves howled in the distance, she had been working on this mini-speech of hers. Just to give a little piece of her parents to the world. Just to let them be loved by the people by at least a fraction as much as they were loved by her. So, early in the morning, she had slipped that piece of parchment under Anna's door. She was glad the girl had gotten it. Slowly, she cleared her throat and began to read.

"The king and queen of Arendelle were wise and fair rulers, and I'm quite sure that their people could not have asked for any two people better suited for the job. They were firm, yet gentle. Intelligent, yet open-minded. Strong, yet kind. Those are traits often overlooked, yet very important in a king and queen, and I cannot be prouder of my parents for possessing such honerable, well-sought-after traits. Their death was tragic, as all death is, and I'm sure the kingdom of Arendelle will mourn greatly for the loss of their beloved rulers.

"Yet, I am a firm believer that my parents were more than just a king and queen. They were more than just the work and the responsibilities and the formalities that you all know them by. They were also, if you can believe this, my mother and father, and that is something I will never forget. They showed me love where I thought there was none, forgiveness hidden within the spinning black-hole of blame, and acceptance of mistakes that are buried far too deeply in the past to ever be changed. They were flawed in some ways, my parents, but that comes with the definition of being human, I believe, and I am saddened to think that it took me until their death to realize this. Without their continued support and comfort, I don't know where I would be right now, and I certainly don't know how I'm going to make it in the future. I love them, though. More than I can say. Long live the king and queen. May God bless them."

Anna had to stop there, she was tearing up so badly, and thinking it was over, the crown chorused 'God bless them' to finish off her speech. Even from such a distance, Elsa could see her sister crying. The way she rubbed her eyes so furiously, shaking her head and biting her lip, her shoulders shaking like scared mice in a trap. Poor girl, poor girl. Slowly, she pushed her tears away and continued.

"On a happier note, I, Elsa, the current princess of Arendelle, will be taking the throne no less than three years from now, when I come of age. During the time lapse, I will prepare myself vigorously for the complexity of this role, and in the meanwhile, one of my father's closest advisers will be running the kingdom. In only a matter of time, power will be restored to my bloodline, and I will carry on my parents' legacy. Thank you for coming here to pay your respects... and good luck."

At this, though quite untypical at a funeral, the crowd dressed all in black erupted in whoops and applause, and Elsa groaned inwardly. Her father's adviser had required she include this little statement in whatever she wrote, in needs of informing the public of the new situation, but the girl didn't like it one bit. It sort of turned the attention away from her parents on their 'last day.' Turned it right towards herself. And somehow, that made her feel extremely guilty. But politics was politics... if these were the types of things queens had to do, she'd just have to learn to live with it.

The rest of the funeral went by without another meaningful moment, and soon Elsa was watching as her sister, looking like death himself in that drear, black clock, shuffled inside. Poor girl, poor girl. Quickly, Elsa got up from her window seat and moved to her bedroom door, checking to see that it was locked. Somehow, she already knew where Anna was going to go next.

Five minutes later, Elsa heard the inevitable tapping on her door. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.

"Elsa?"

Oh no, she wasn't sure if she could handle this. Anna had already come banging at her door plenty of times this past week, broken and hysterical, begging for love. It was so hard to ignore her before... but after watching her so alone and scared at the funeral, Elsa was sure that this time it would be impossible.

"Please, I know you're in there."

_Go away, Anna. Please._

"People are asking where you've been."

_If only they knew. If only YOU knew._

"They say have courage, and I'm trying to!"

_You're the bravest person I know. _

"I'm right out here for you!"

_I know you are, you always are._

"Just let me in!"

_I can't, I can't, I CAN'T. _

Elsa was struggling not to cry, now. Because Anna's voice... her happy, shining, melodious voice... just sounded so broken. So twisted and hurt and in pain. And Elsa knew she could do nothing about it. Suddenly, memories from long, long ago flooded into her mind, and she shuddered despite herself.

Little Anna. Jumping from snow bank to snow bank as she laughed her little head off. Little Elsa. Creating beautiful, magical things just so she could hear that laugh again and again. A tiredness, an exhaustion, stretching over herself as she realized that she was pushing her powers too far. A cry of "Slow down!" drowned out by more laughter. A failure to catch her sister as she fell. A fear in the pit of her stomach as the girl went flying through the air. One last burst of terrified ice. A strike to the head. A body pounding to the ground. A scream. A cry. A frozen little girl.

Elsa gulped, but the images kept coming. Trying to cling onto reality, she stared at the explosion of ice and snow all over her room. At the proof that she had absolutely no control over herself.

Mama and Papa holding the little girl to their chest. Elsa clinging onto their arms for dear life, guilt and fear tightening her chest to the point of suffocation. Riding on the back of a horse with Father, a stream of ice marking their path on the grassy ground. The short, strange troll staring down at her sister. Touching her head and erasing her precious memories. Telling Elsa that she needed to control her powers, to control her burning fear, or she'd become a monster. Father holding her and nodding and promising to keep her seperated for as long as it took. Walking home with her parents, a sleeping Anna in their arms, as they explained to her that from now on, everything would change. And change it did. Nothing was ever the same after that.

"We only have each other!"

_No, we don't, Anna! Stay away from me, I'm only going to hurt you again._

_"_It's just you, and me,"

_Find someone else. I'm sorry, I just can't be there for you!_

"What are we gonna do?"

_Oh, Anna, I don't know. I really don't. _

Elsa's heart was in the process of shattering, and above the sound of it she only barely heard as the girl pressed her back to the door, sliding down it until she sat on the carpeted ground. Slowly, Elsa followed her, pressing her knees to her chest and trying so, so hard to keep it all in. Yet knowing she never could.

She and her sister were so close now, separated by only a single doorway. But really, they had never been so far away. Anna was reaching for her, aching for her, especially at a time like this, but always she would have to be turned away. Because, no matter how long ago it had been, Elsa could not forgot the day that she had nearly killed her little sister. And she could not forgot the fact that at any moment, she could do it again. No matter how close they were physically, they would never be together. Because Anna was so soft, and innocent, and delicate. And the destruction of her, if it ever happened, would be the destruction of the world itself. Elsa simply couldn't take that risk.

Suddenly, from the other side of the doorway, the girl heard a little sniff.

"Do you want to build a snowman..."

_Yes, Anna, of course I do. I love you. _

Suddenly, feeling her emotions begin to surge, Elsa leaned her head forward and pressed her face into her hands. Soon, the tears were flooding from her eyes, slightly dimming what she knew could never truly be washed away. The girl just sat there, surrounded by her own explosion of ice, falling apart at the seams.

If only she could build a snowman. Then everything would be alright.

* * *

**Well, it was a bit depression...but I hope you liked it! Next chapter is going to be just a collection of important bits from the movie, which takes place three years from now. Like I said before, I'll update as soon as I can. Please read and review ;). **


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